Twisted Minds Think Alike
by LoquaciousQuibbler
Summary: She looked and acted like an angel. And just when you started to believe she really wasn't a killer underneath, she would strike. Loki thought she was just the kind of person he could use, after he manipulated her into trusting him. Little did he know, she was trying to manipulate him back. Both twisted minds try to trick and bend the other to their will… but will either succeed?
1. Chapter 1

Knife

She handled the knife carefully, its blade gliding gracefully through the fruit, peeling off the skin flawlessly. She repeated the motion, relishing the way the knife cut through the matter so easily. Another piece of the apple's skin was peeled away, the flesh inside perfectly smooth. Flawless. Her knife skills were excellent. She just wished she could use them on something besides apples. Not that anyone needed to know that.

She peeled the apple with the knife until all the red was gone, exposing the white inside. She proceeded to chop it into slices, leaving the core with the discarded skin. She slid the apple slices over to where a fit young man in scrubs inspected the other apple slices she had already finished.

"You're doing very well with this," he commented as he put the slices into a bowl.

She smiled modestly, the gesture not reflecting anything she felt inside. But nobody needed to know that.

"Alright, now that we've got the apples all sliced up, let's come and mix up all the ingredients for the filling together." The man beckoned her over to him, and she trailed down the counter towards him, her fingers reluctantly letting the knife slip from her grasp to remain on the cutting board.

She did as the man in scrubs instructed, feigning obedience. This was the only way she got their trust. Obedience. Even if the obedience was feigned. Nobody needed to know that. So she mixed brown sugar and apples in a bowl with a myriad of other ingredients and poured the mixture into a pan already lined with pie crust. As the man instructed, she put the pie in the oven and set the timer for the necessary amount of time.

"You seem to be doing pretty well today," the man commented as she peered into the oven window, inspecting the pie inside. She looked up at him and simply smiled. "You like cooking and baking, don't you?" he inquired. She slowly nodded. "That's good. They should let you do more of it for your rehab. It seems to calm you down quite a bit."

She smiled brightly at the man. Inside, however, she was simply thinking to herself that he had no idea. Inside, her smile was a wicked smirk, a crooked grin, a threatening promise. He had no idea. Inside, she pictured his demise… which would come soon. But nobody needed to know that.

"Alright, then, let's clean up the stuff on the counter, shall we?" he suggested, gesturing to the mixing bowls, spoons, cutting board… and the knife. She smiled softly and nodded. He nodded approvingly at her obedience.

He gathered up all the dishes before she could get to them, though. A flicker of irritation sparked through her, but she held it in. In time, she could use it. But not now. She still had to get to that knife. Which, right now, was in his grasp and not hers. She just had to figure out a way to reverse that.

"So what would you like to do?" he asked. "Want to wipe down the counters? I can grab you some paper towels while I—" he paused as she shook her head. "Then what would you like to do?" he asked, hesitating a little. She wasn't being obedient anymore. That unsettled him. But she knew how to settle him again.

She gave him a falsely tentative smile, widened her large eyes, and pointed to the sink. she mimed a scrubbing motion.

His smile grew and he nodded. "Dishes? Sure, you can do the dishes."

She smiled, pleased with the results of her little act. They always fell for it. Do a little smiling, a little innocent-eyes, and a little too-timid-to-talk. Sometimes they took it as stupidity. That worked for her. They were the stupid ones: they fell for it. One would think that SHIELD employees would be a little more wary of her. Surely the other, more experienced rehabilitation caregivers had told him about her?

He set the pile of bowls and other dishes on the counter next to the sink. She followed and took her place in front of the sink.

"Do you need my help?" he asked helpfully as she started the water and took the sponge from its place.

She looked at him with a falsely bright expression and shook her head.

He smiled. "Okay, just offering." He handed her a mixing spoon, and she began cleaning it, praying he would hand her the knife soon. But until then, feigned obedience. "I really don't see what the big trouble is with you," he said thoughtfully. she gave him a small frown, not entirely fake. "I mean, most of the other guys say you usually misbehave and shout and threaten them with things, but…" he handed her a mixing bowl as she finished the spoon. "You seem pretty well-behaved to me."

She smiled. So clueless and stupid. Keep thinking that to yourself.

"You don't look like how I pictured you would, either," he commented. "When they would talk about you, I pictured this deranged kid who wore rags and had her hair all matted or something, and screamed at you for everything. Instead, you're this pretty little thing, so helpful, independent, well-taken-care-of, and so quiet. They said you could talk," he said suddenly. "You can, can't you?"

She nodded wordlessly.

He just shrugged. "Well, anyways, it's nice to see that you're doing so well today. It's been much nicer than I expected it to be."

He slid the knife toward her along the counter, and she smiled to herself. She wrapped her soapy fingers around the handle. She met the man's eyes, dropping the mask of innocence. Her docile plastered-on smile slipped away, replaced with a twisted smirk. The act was over.

The man noticed immediately when she didn't just wash the knife and put it away. His eyes flashed in surprise and he dove away from her a moment before she flung the knife towards him. He somersaulted and took cover behind the counter as she dashed over to the wall, where the knife had buried itself point first next to the stove. She yanked it out of the wall and turned to face the man.

To her dismay, he had pulled a gun and pointed it at her. He still crouched on the floor next to the counter, his eyes still slightly surprised at her sudden transformation from innocent to murderous. Still, he had had the sense to pull the gun. He wasn't quite as stupid as she had thought… or hoped.

She glared at him, assessing the situation. Knife against gun. They were both ready for a fight.

"Drop the knife," he ordered quietly, his voice taking on an attempted soothing tone.

It only succeeded in infuriating her. Her grip tightened on the blade.

"I swear, if you hurt me, I will shoot," he continued.

She narrowed her eyes. If she hurt him, he would shoot. They would see about that. "Two inches from the right ear," she whispered, her voice that of a girl, not a monster. She was not at all what she appeared.

"What did you say?" he demanded.

She simply smirked and hurled the knife at him, and then dove into a somersault before the knife buried itself in the wood of the counter.

The gun went off, but she was already on the other side of the room. He hadn't even meant to shoot. It was a shock reflex. She quickly circled back around the counter to see him, stunned. Her knife was buried in the wood two inches from his right ear. He stared at the girl, an evil, twisted, taunting expression on her face. Such an expression didn't belong on her young, pretty face, but it was there nonetheless.

"You lied," she accused in a sweet voice. "You said you'd shoot if I hurt you. I didn't hurt you, but you still shot. You lied." She sauntered a little closer, a smirk playing on her lips.

He backed away toward the door to exit her room, his gun still pointing at her. She shook her head and pulled the knife from the counter. She heard the door open as he started to back out of the room.

"I had a much nicer time than I expected," she call to him nonchalantly, her voice dripping with mocking disdain as he fled the room, and the terrifying girl within. She glanced up at the door, now closed, leaving her alone. She smirked. "By the way, you forgot to take the knife away from me," she murmured to no one. She inspected the razor sharp point of the knife and smiled.

Then she seated herself on the floor in front of the oven and waited for the apple pie to be done as she flipped the blade from hand to hand, savoring the feeling of having a weapon.

The door opened an hour and a half later, and a man with an eye patch, a bald head, and a trench coat entered, looking wary.

"Director," the girl called in welcome. Her voice was that of a cheery young girl greeting an old friend. Of course, that was just a front. A game she played with the Director. He was well aware of her tricks and tendencies, unlike the unfortunate caregiver earlier that day.

"Emmie," he greeted her curtly.

Emmie's upper lip curled in disgust at her name. It sounded so… soft. But she still preferred the childish nickname to her real name. She walked over to the wall and pulled out the forbidden knife from where it was stuck point-first. She had been throwing it repeatedly for the last half hour, after she had taken the pie out of the oven. The wall was riddled with holes where the knife had hit its mark hundreds of times.

"What are you doing?" he asked, a wary edge to his voice.

"Playing with a new toy," Emmie spat mockingly.

He let out a sigh. "I figured as much. Hand it over, Emmie."

She smiled grimly. "Ask please."

His one eye focused on the girl's wide, bright green ones. "Emmie, I'm not playing."

Her green eyes flashed in warning as she turned away from him and threw the knife once more. It stuck in the wall, buried deep in the plaster. She slowly walked over to it and pulled it out before turning to face the Director again. "I'm not playing either, Director. I've been practicing with this for a while. My aim's pretty good. Ask that caregiver from earlier. You know, the one that left the knife here? Yeah, I kind of missed hitting his right ear with this thing by two inches. On purpose," she added significantly, holding the knife so that light glinted off the blade.

"You don't scare me," he said firmly.

The young woman smirked. "Maybe I should."

"You also don't amuse me," he continued, as if she hadn't said anything. "Now hand over the knife, Emmie. We have something more important to talk about."

Her eyes widened in worry and shock. "Is this about the body?"

His eye widened as well. "_What?" _

"I swear, it wasn't me," Emmie said defensively, then paused. "Well, it wasn't my idea…." she hesitated again. "Well, they let me…" she wavered once more. "Okay, well, I got away with it," she finished, her voice defensive.

The Director stared at her. "_Emmie, did you-?_" he broke off at the sight of her elated grin.

She burst into a delighted laugh at his shock. That was all an act. There was no body. She had just wondered how he would react to that. And the results were quite favorable to her twisted sense of humor.

"Emmie, that is _not _funny," he growled.

The girl smiled, wicked mischief glinting in her green eyes. "Opinions, opinions. I thought it was quite amusing," she said nonchalantly. The knife was still in her hands, idly turning over and over.

"Emmie, give me the knife," the Director said in a warning voice, still obviously a little shaken from the scare she had given him. "We have something to talk about."

"You guys didn't find the bomb, did you?" she asked lazily. "Or did you finally notice the vials of missing neurotoxins? Or is this about the sample phase gun?" She said each in quick succession, each question making the Director's eye widen slightly more every time.

"Emmie-?!" he broke off again as she bit back more laughter. _"Stop that," _he spat in irritation.

"You're just easy to trick, Director," Emmie said disdainfully. "It's too easy."

"That's because it's very easy to believe that you would do any one of those things," he muttered.

She smirked.

"That's _not _a compliment, young lady," he said warningly.

The girl rolled her eyes. "And don't call me young lady. I'm not your daughter or anything."

"Speaking of," the Director said suddenly. "Your mother is worrying to death about you. She doesn't understand why you continue to refuse to cooperate with your rehabilitation."

Emmie's face hardened at the mention of her mother. "Shut up," she hissed.

"Your mother wants you to get better, Emmie," he continued to speak, his words concerned. But to the girl, they sounded taunting.

"I said shut up," she spat, clenching her jaw.

"Hand over the knife," he ordered.

She immediately did so, impulsively, hoping he would relent if she obeyed. "Now stop talking about _her._"

The Director shook his head in exasperation. "She is worried, Emmie. She believes you can still get better."

"Tell her she's wrong, and tell her I don't want to hear about her," Emmie muttered, her hands shaking. "Now get it over with, whatever it was you wanted to talk about. You're getting me mad, Director, and you know nobody's happy when I'm mad."

The Director shook his head again. "I don't understand you, Emmie."

She didn't respond, glaring at him.

"Anyways, I came to talk to you about something that's happened. It's very important. Do you understand that?"

The girl narrowed her eyes at him. "I understand more than you think I do. You think I don't understand that I'm not the center of the universe. You think I don't understand that things happen outside this room. You think I'm just a little girl with the impulse to kill things. You think I don't know that SHIELD's biggest project is having a little bit of a setback," she said softly, her voice holding a slight threatening tone to it.

He frowned. "How do you know that?"

She grinned. "I didn't until just now. You confirmed it. But please, continue telling me that I don't understand things," she smirked. "You're so obviously right, Director."

He studied the girl in front of him carefully. She was pleased to see the uneasy look in his eye. He didn't like being reminded that she was actually an intelligent girl, not just a prisoner that had to go through rehab to get rid of those nasty violent tendencies. He didn't like being reminded that she was a manipulative, malicious, mean little murderess. She liked reminding him. It was worth seeing the uneasiness in his eye.

"As I was saying, Emmie," he said slowly. "We _do _have a setback in our biggest project. You remember what the project is?"

She nodded. "The Tesseract." She smirked, but inside she really felt fear. But nobody needed to know that. The Tesseract made Emmie hurt. She couldn't remember much of her life before the Tesseract. She only remembered the pain during.

The Director nodded. "It's been stolen."

She raised an eyebrow sardonically. "You have low enough security on it that you allow your biggest top-secret project to be _stolen? _I thought SHIELD was supposed to be _smart _or something… silly me."

He glared. "It was stolen by a very dangerous man, and it's going to take a lot of work to get it back."

She shrugged nonchalantly, her thoughts travelling back to the knife in Fury's hand. She was wondering if it was worth the fight to get it back. Probably not. . "So? What's that got to do with me, Director?"

He leaned forward towards her. "Because it's got to do with me."

Emmie feigned innocent quizzicality, really feeling more of an angry confusion.

"I'm going to have to leave the base for several days," he continued. "So that means I'm not on call to retrieve knives from you," he held up the knife she had handed him and looked at her pointedly.

The girl simply smiled. No Director, no rules. The caregivers had a much harder time handling her when the Director wasn't around. She had caused injuries before when the Director was gone. She wondered if she could break her record of injuring six caregivers in three days. Maybe she could inflict more than just injuries this time.

"I know what you're thinking," he commented, looking at the girl's smirk. "You're thinking of ways to cause havoc around here while I'm gone."

She quickly shook her head, eyes widening innocently. "I would never—"

He cut her off with a glare. "The marks in your wall say otherwise."

She glanced over her shoulder at the wall behind her. It was marked with multiple holes where the knife had struck it hundreds of times. She smiled at the sight. "Fair point, Director. So what are you going to do, induce me into a coma while you're gone or something?"

"No," he said shortly.

She turned back to him, a questioning look in her green eyes.

"I'm taking you with me."

Miles and miles away, the god of mischief listened with interest as Agent Clint Barton told him of the inner workings of SHIELD. He had already heard the tales of Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Bruce Banner. Clint had also informed him of Director Nick Fury. He was rather satisfied with the cornucopia of information the Agent had given him, actually. He normally wasn't satisfied (satisfaction wasn't in his nature), but Barton was a sufficient supply of intelligence.

"Is that all the members of Fury's Avengers Initiative?" the god of mischief questioned.

Barton nodded, his eyes glazed over from the spell placed on him by the god.

"Very well." The god of mischief stood and started to walk out of the room.

"Wait… there's someone else you might want to know about," the agent said suddenly.

He paused and glanced back. "An Avenger?"

Barton shook his head.

The god turned to face Hawk Eye. "An agent?"

Barton shook his head. "More of a… I'm not sure what you would call her… she's not a prisoner, per se, but…"

He frowned. "Not an agent, not a prisoner. Yet you feel I should know about her? What is she?"

Barton sighed. "A girl. She's only a teenager, but she's… dangerous. Very dangerous. Fury's probably going to try to keep her close to him while they try to regain the Tesseract. I thought you might want a little information on her. She's… kind of important to certain people in SHIELD," Barton said lightly.

The god of mischief raised one eyebrow, his interest piqued. This girl sounded like she might be useful. This might be worth his time. "Tell me."

**Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: I'm curious as to how I'm going to make this story go… you have just as much knowledge as I do. I haven't decided what Emmie's past is really going to be yet, but I can promise this story is probably going to get a little dark. I felt like writing something… with an innocent-looking psycho as the main character… kinda like me, but way, way exaggerated with the psycho part… I only think of these things, while Emmie actually does them. **** That doesn't make me a psycho, does it? I'm just a closet psycho… just don't tick me off. ;) **

**Anyways, we'll see how this goes… Emmie and Loki will definitely have some interaction, though I haven't yet decided whether it will become a pairing, or maybe just a friendship type deal. I'd love to hear suggestions as to where this story will go. I definitely will need the help. **


	2. Chapter 2

Gun

"_Stop lying to me!_" Bruce Banner slammed his fists down on the table, and found himself staring into the barrel of Natasha Romanoff's gun. She looked like she might burst into tears from fear, but she was still determined. She would fire if the need came. Bruce smiled wryly. "I'm sorry. That was mean. I just wanted to see what you would do. Let's do this the easy way, where you don't use that," he nodded to her gun. "And the other guy doesn't make a… mess. Natasha."

Natasha let out a tense sigh and lowered her gun. She lifted her hand to the earpiece she had in her ear and muttered into it, addressing the soldiers hidden outside. "Stand down. We're good here."

Banner smirked humorlessly. "Just you and me," he repeated her reassurance from moments before.

Natasha sighed and slid her gun into its holster. "I'm sorry, Doctor, but you have to understand… SHIIELD has been on edge… a lot of… funny stuff has happened recently."

"You say funny, but you don't really look like you're laughing," Dr. Banner commented.

Natasha shook her head. "You know what I mean."

Banner nodded. "Of course. I'm just wondering what you mean by funny. I mean," he let out a breath of amusement. "Besides the whole… aliens really do exist and we have to steal an unlimited source of energy back from them."

Natasha turned away from the doctor, clasping her hands behind her back. "There are things about the Tesseract we don't really understand."

Bruce nodded in understanding. "It's something not from our world. Of course there are things we don't understand about it. What do you mean, specifically?"

The redhead sighed. "Specifically… the effect it apparently can have on people when it… misbehaves. It has major fluctuations and such."

"To be expected," Bruce nodded slowly, taking off his glasses. "Go on. What do you mean the effect it can have on people?"

Natasha bit her lip. "Nearly a year ago, when we first started the research into the Tesseract as an energy source, it had some heavy tolls. When its energy levels fluctuated, some of the scientists found themselves with concussions or migraines. If it had a really bad fluctuation, there were some people who passed out."

"There's still more to it, isn't there?" Bruce asked slowly.

"I'm getting there," Natasha muttered. "During one of the worst fluctuations, there was a girl in the room. She was sixteen."

"What was a sixteen year old doing around the Tesseract?" Bruce asked suddenly, raising his eyebrows.

Natasha sighed deeply. "She's… the daughter of a SHIELD employee. She spent a lot of time at the base in otherwise prohibited zones. The Tesseract wasn't misbehaving at the time when she was in there... at least, not at first. The fluctuation started suddenly, and was over in a minute, but the energy the Tesseract released was astronomical. Off the charts. The girl and a number of other scientists and agents passed out. Everyone else was alright when they woke up, just with a killer headache. The only one to suffer any kind of long term effects was the girl."

Bruce waited, watching Natasha carefully. "What happened to her?"

"No one knows exactly how it happened, or exactly _what _happened, actually." Natasha frowned. "She was… changed. Her mind got somehow twisted. She's now an impulsive killer."

The doctor waited another moment. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked softly, disturbed by the idea of a sixteen year old girl suddenly becoming an impulsive killer.

Natasha met his eyes. "We were… hoping you could help her."

The doctor shook his head quickly. "I'm not that kind of doctor, miss Romanoff."

Natasha smiled grimly. "We know. But we were hoping you might be able to figure out exactly why the energy released by the Tesseract had the effect on her, and see if maybe you can reverse it. It would mean a lot to…" she trailed off. "Certain people."

"That's Emmie?" an agent asked. His name was Coleson. The Director had told Emmie that a little while ago. She had never met him before, but apparently he knew her by reputation.

"That's her," the Director confirmed quietly.

Emmie smiled, though the Director and Coleson couldn't see it since they were behind her. They were in a jet, flying to the Helicarrier, as the Director called it. Emmie sat in between two muscular men armed with Tasers, batons, and hand guns. Emmie wasn't handcuffed, much to her surprise, and she didn't have any extra straps to hold her in her seat, as she had expected. She was simply sitting in her seat with a seat belt across her small lap. The girl didn't question why there was such lax security on her, but she suspected it had something to do with her mother.

"She looks younger than you said… you said she's seventeen, right?" Coleson asked.

"She turned seventeen three months ago," the Director answered.

"She looks like she's only fourteen. She's a shrimp. She doesn't have much muscle, height, or weight. She should be easy to take down if she gets out of hand, shouldn't she? But you've told me she's managed to severely injure six caregivers in three days before?"

"Four of them didn't get out of the hospital for two and a half months."

"How does she manage that?"

"She's got a twisted mind, Coleson. She's quick, smart, manipulative, devious, and she looks like she wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone put you in the hospital for three months." The Director sounded grudging. "Altogether, that's a lethal mix. You wouldn't expect the things that she does or threatens to do. She doesn't mess around. If given the chance, she'll torture anything. Even if it's not alive."

Coleson was silent. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"I mean she enjoys destroying things just for the knowledge that she's destroying something. She once made gingerbread cookies with a caregiver for rehab. She knocked the caregiver unconscious with the baking sheet, finished making the cookies, put them in the oven, and then proceeded to watch the gingerbread men burn to ashes just for the fun of watching cookie men burn."

Silence. Emmie smirked. She remembered that. It was funny when the caregiver woke up hours later taped to a chair while she still sat on the floor in front of the oven, grinning as the gingerbread men blackened and crumbled.

"She's going to be in a locked room the whole time on the Helicarrier?" Coleson asked.

The Director probably nodded, but Emmie couldn't see it.

"Has she ever escaped from her room at the base?"

"A few times," the Director said evasively. "She didn't cause too much damage. Just a little, um… explosions and irreparable damage to a few pieces of equipment."

The green-eyed girl grinned. Plus several more agents getting injured in the process.

"You sure she won't escape this time?"

"No. But I hope not. She's a master escape artist, a genius at making anything into a weapon, and determined. But we'll make sure there's nothing in the room she can use as a weapon. And there's not going to be many people going into her room that she can hurt, anyway."

"What about…" Coleson trailed off a minute. "Her mother? Is she going to want to see her?"

"She'll want to. I'll try to stop her. She knows what Emmie's like now. She shouldn't want to see her like this. But she's probably still going to want to visit her."

"Will you let her?"

The Director seemed to consider for a moment. "I won't stop her from seeing her own daughter. She hasn't seen her in nearly a year. But I'll still advise her against it."

Emmie pursed her lips. She didn't want to see her mother. She had told the Director that. She had made it perfectly clear. Yet he was now saying that he would allow her to see Emmie if she so wished.

"I don't have a say in this matter, Director?" the girl asked, raising her deceptively sweet voice so they would hear.

They were both silent for a moment.

"Emmie, I didn't know you were listening," the Director commented.

"Liar. You know I'm always listening, don't you?" she smirked. That was good. That was partly accusation, partly a jab at his common sense, partly a mysterious hint at a threat.

"No, Emmie, you don't get a say in this matter," the Director continued. "If your mother wants to see you, she will see you."

"I don't want to see her. I already told you that when we left the base. I told you, I'll only behave if I don't have to see her," she said stubbornly. This was a lie. She had said no such thing. But there was no backing out of his fictional agreement.

"Emmie, she's your mother. You're a minor. She has every legal right to visit you—"

"To visit me in my cell?" Emmie interrupted. "Hmm… that doesn't sound quite right. She's your mother, you're a minor, and she has the right to visit your cell. One of those doesn't quite belong with the rest. Now do me a favor and stop talking about me and my mother like I'm not here unless you want me to steal a hand gun from King Kong over here," she nodded toward the muscular guard on her right, who frowned and adopted a defensive posture.

"And speaking of stealing hand guns," the teenager continued airily. "You said there's not going to be anything I can use as a weapon in my room."

"There won't be," the Director said.

"Will there be a bed?" She smiled when he nodded. "Then there's something I can make into a weapon. How about a blanket? Pillow? Door with a handle? A chair? A dresser with drawers and or doors? There's got to be light bulbs. I can use those. And I think all those things are somewhat necessary, so, I think no matter what you do, I'll be able to find something to make a weapon out of."

The agent and Director exchanged glances.

"It's not right to hear that coming out of that little girl's mouth," Coleson muttered. "It's eerie. She looks so harmless, but she gets this vicious glint in her eyes… It's very off-putting. I don't know if I'm comfortable sleeping in the same country as her, let alone the same Helicarrier."

"Don't worry about sleeping in the same Helicarrier as me," the bright-eyed girl grinned sweetly and said in a sing-song voice. "I'll make sure you don't wake up."

"Okay, that's enough. Either you shut your little mouth or we break out the tranquilizers," the Director snapped as Coleson furrowed his brow at her.

Emmie glared at the two of them but didn't say anymore. She preferred to not be tranquilized.

The Director and Coleson returned their attention to each other.

"I believe Agent Romanoff is already at the Helicarrier, Dr. Banner will be arriving soon, and you'll be going to get Rogers?" the Director questioned.

Agent Coleson nodded, a small smile on his lips. It must have had something to do with Rogers. Emmie recognized the symptoms of what could pass for a crush. She shook her head, light brown hair swinging over her small shoulders. For such a tough-acting guy, he obviously had a soft spot. Rogers. Whoever that was. she had to remember, just in case she could use the knowledge against Agent Coleson later.

Emmie always had to think of things to use against people. She was always preparing to manipulate people and get things her way. Not that anybody needed to know that.

The god of mischief was really starting to take a liking to the way his plan was going. He had two of SHIELD's people on his own side: Erik Selvig and Clint Barton. That provided sufficient leverage in the case of discovery of the underground bunker his minions were currently working in. He could quickly turn this into a hostage situation if need be. Still, he was hoping it wouldn't come to that. He had far bigger plans to put into effect.

He was going to provide a distraction while Clint Barton and a few other agents for an organization opposing SHIELD stole the iridium, which was necessary for the Tesseract's stabilizing. During the thievery, the god of mischief was going to be captured by SHIELD. This way, he would be able to get to some of their key weak points. Namely, Bruce Banner and the girl, Emmie. They were his plan. They were what he was counting on to be the downfall of SHIELD.

Dr. Banner and Emmie were the key.

**Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: Okey-dokeys… so… Not much is happening plot-wise at the moment. These first few chapters just get the ball rolling, and then we can get to some more interesting things. Please stick with me for a few more chapters before you dismiss this as boring or something. I've got the next chapter like half-written, and the following two chapters done. It is in the fourth chapter, I think, when Emmie and Loki will have their first encounter. It shouldn't take long for me to get that chapter up, but please be patient with me. I've got school and such, so yeah. Please favorite and follow, and pretty please leave me a review. It makes me happy beyond belief to get reviews. :D Also, you are allowed—nay, **_**encouraged **_**to PM me. I will always message back, and I'd be happy to talk or answer questions. **

**Okey, I'll stop ranting now… Emmie wouldn't tolerate such ranting. She'd knock me out with a baking sheet. :P **


	3. Chapter 3

Hypodermic Needles

The sixteen-year-old girl strode down the hall nonchalantly, no longer caring that she was out of place amongst the taller, stronger, more able-bodied adults that also walked through the halls. As far as she was concerned, she belonged. She would join them one day. When she was older, when she had more training, when she was more than she was now. She wouldn't be out of place then. The idea gave her hope.

She entered the huge room where the research on the Tesseract was being conducted. She had come here every day for the last three weeks. It had been five since the Tesseract's last major fluctuation, and the scientists were sure they had gotten such anomalies under control. So she was allowed to be in the room during research now.

She had begged for her mother to talk to Director Fury to grant her permission to do this. Of course she wanted to be here observing while scientists made life-changing discoveries. She was more interested in the scientific part of the world than the other part that SHIELD took part in. She wasn't much one for violence and fighting.

Her mother had been a little unsure, worried that the Tesseract might have a fluctuation and make her daughter pass out. That was what had happened to some of the other researchers during their research. The Tesseract threw off some radiation, and had power surges. Some people passed out, and some even got concussions or migraines. But none of that had happened in five weeks now.

So the Director had granted permission three weeks ago for the girl to observe while the "real" scientists conducted their research.

The teen walked over to a table where a group of men and women in lab coats were gathered. She placed her palms on the tabletop and leaned forward eagerly. "Hi. What's going on today?" she asked expectantly.

The adults glanced her way and smiled.

"Hey, Emmie. We haven't got much happening so far today. There was a minor spike in its energy, but it was only for five minutes, and it was only minor. It happened…" the man speaking glanced to the woman to his left. "What, maybe forty-five minutes ago?"

The woman shrugged. "About that, yeah."

Emmie's green eyes sparked with interest. "There was a fluctuation, and I wasn't here for it?" she asked, sounding half-excited and half-indignant.

"It wasn't a real fluctuation," the man said, smiling slightly. "It was too minor to count. And it's not a precursor to a major spike, either. It's been too long of a gap for that to be the logical conclusion. With other spikes, the follow-up fluctuation happens pretty soon afterward."

Emmie smiled disdainfully. "Shame," she quipped.

"You wouldn't want to be here during a _real _fluctuation, Emmie," the female scientist said warningly. "Really. I was here during the last one. I was out for four hours, and the headache afterwards didn't go away for another day."

Emmie smiled wryly. Personally, she thought it might be… fascinating. The Tesseract might be a source of unlimited energy. Its fluctuations were proof of that. Emmie had a theory: if they could harness the energy given off solely during the Tesseract's fluctuations, they would be able to tap into its energy all the time. And that would be beyond exciting.

"If you want, Emmie, we've got some graphs that were taking down the energy levels during the spike. It's not much, but since you seem interested, you can give them a look over. See if you can pick up some kind of pattern we didn't," the man smiled warmly at the sixteen year old, who sighed but smiled.

She knew they didn't really take her seriously as a colleague. She was the kid who hung around the research lab and made suggestions about things she didn't know about. But she was learning. She was determined to learn.

She soon sat with a long sheet of paper with a line graph on it, showing the energy the Tesseract had been giving off the last two hours. "Forty-five minutes ago…" she murmured, biting her bottom lip in concentration. "And then five weeks ago..." she flipped through the folder of the previous graphs of the energy until she found the one that graphed the information about the last fluctuation. She compared the two, the minor energy spike and the major fluctuation. She frowned and pulled out the info on the fluctuations before.

Her brow creased. How could no one have noticed this before? It was simple, and almost predictable. There had been a fluctuation seven, six, and five weeks ago. Each was preceded by a minor spike in the Tesseract's energy. And the more minor the spike in energy before, the more major the fluctuation that followed was. And the more minor the spike, the longer time it took between spike and fluctuation. Like the Tesseract had a buildup of energy that had to be released. Which wasn't a good thing, if that was true: the Tesseract's energy had been building for the last five weeks. And the minor spike an hour ago had been miniscule. That meant that the next fluctuation would be huge. Her green eyes flicked over the graphs again, wondering if the others would believe her if she pointed out the reverse pattern she had found. The less worrying the preceding spike, the more worrying the fluctuation would be. The scientists hadn't stopped the fluctuations. They had just plugged it up. Like plugging up a geyser. There was just a greater buildup of pressure inside.

"Hey, you guys?" Emmie asked, her sweet voice slightly shrill in worry.

"What's up, buttercup?" a woman asked brightly from a few tables away.

"Um…" Emmie glanced between the graphs in front of her and the woman. "You might want to look at this."

The woman and the man next to her exchanged quizzical looks and then started to walk over to the young girl.

But before they reached the table with the girl and the graphs, the Tesseract, on a platform in the middle of the room, began to glow brighter and let off sparks. There were cries of alarm as people rushed to the power circuits, but the Tesseract glowed an even brighter blue, pulsating with sparking energy. There was a bright explosion as a torrent of the extraterrestrial energy was released in a blast.

Emmie fell back, clutching her head and writhing in pain. She screamed until her throat was raw. She squeezed her eyes shut, as tight as she could. But it was no use: she could still see the pulsing blue energy through her closed eyelids. Then bright red flashed across her vision, and excruciating pain forced its way into her head, tearing yet another scream from her hoarse throat. She felt like her head was being torn apart from the inside. And she felt something… a terrifying, dangerous, angry hatred and anguish filled her. And then she passed out before she could scream in fright at the sudden malevolence that seemed to be taking her over.

Emmie screamed and her pained green eyes snapped open, wild with fear. She was covered in a cold sweat. It took her a long moment for her to be able to see where she was, and hear the noises around her. For a moment, all she could see was the pulsing blue energy, and the red that covered her vision. She panted hard, blinking several times to try to make the images go away.

"A dream," her voice whispered. She could hear it, but she couldn't recall saying the words on purpose. She swallowed and whispered again. "A dream."

The seventeen year old was in a room, on a hard surface. It took her a moment to come back to herself. She had fallen off the bed. She was on the floor in her room in the Helicarrier. The scratchy blanket was wrapped around her ankles, tangled, binding her bare feet together. Anger flooded her and she tore the blanket off, throwing it back onto the twin bed. She swallowed again. "A dream," she whispered.

Her fists clenched as she tried to think straight. The Helicarrier. Coleson. Fury. She remembered being on the jet taking her here. But she couldn't remember how she had gotten in this room. It was dark. Not that that really meant anything. She was in a room with no windows. It could be any time of day and she wouldn't have a clue.

She dizzily closed her hateful green eyes and sighed. She hated that dream. It was all she could really remember about life before the Tesseract. Well, she could remember vague flickering images. She could see people now and know whether she had known them before the Tesseract or not, but she couldn't remember what she had thought of them then, or how she had known them.

Emmie shook her head. She didn't like her dream. In her dream (or memory, as it were, she supposed), she was weak. She was simple minded and naïve and innocent. She had once been what she pretended to be now. But she was no longer innocent, naïve, and sweet. She was twisted and dark and manipulative. And she was okay with that. She didn't want to be "fixed" as people had used to say when this had all first started.

Emmie couldn't be fixed. She wasn't broken. She was twisted.

"…don't know. We haven't gone to check on her since we put her in there," an agent was saying. "She shouldn't remember a thing when she wakes up, though. She'll just find herself in the room, and she'll be stuck."

Emmie stood just outside the doorway where the agents were talking to the Director. She rolled her eyes. Stuck, indeed. It had taken her a total of fifteen minutes to escape her room. And that was including the time it had taken for her to wake up and assess her situation. So altogether, it had really only taken her about ten minutes.

"How long should it take her to wake up?" the Director was now asking.

"It's been about three hours now, so…" the agent considered. "Depending on her body's metabolism and such, she could have been awake for an hour now, or she could wake up in an hour."

"So what you're saying is, any time now," the Director said slowly.

"Yes, sir," the agent replied.

"I don't want anyone going into that room for another two hours, then. Let's give her some time to calm down when she wakes up in an unfamiliar place."

Emmie frowned. They were talking about her like she was some kind of animal. She had already gathered that they had tranquilized her at some point and then put her in that room. And now they were talking about giving her time to calm herself down. She rolled her eyes. What idiots. She slowly backed away, keeping her eye on the door to the meeting room the Director and agent were in before turning and stalking down the hall. She would hide out for a while. See how long it took them to realize she had escaped. And then see how much havoc she could wreak in the meantime.

"We have a security breach in the medical center!" a voice called frantically over the Helicarrier's intercoms, and red lights started to flash.

Emmie sighed in disappointment. She had been having a good run. She had already contaminated a third of the ship's bottles of medical supplies. She had already taken a package of hypodermic needles and a few bottles of some unknown substance with a skull on their bright red labels. And she had used both finds to take down three people unfortunate enough to cross her murderous path.

Now it sounded like they had found the bodies. Emmie didn't know if she had killed them, but she didn't really care. She had been so wrapped up in mixing labels around and dripping the remains of the substance in the bottle with the skull on it into painkillers that she hadn't bothered to keep a lookout. Someone had spotted the girl, not dressed in a SHIELD or scientist uniform,, and sounded the alarm.

With a sigh, she slipped the needles into her pocket and put the bottle of "Substance Skull" as she had decided to call it, into the other pocket. The syringes would make sufficient weapons if the need arose, but she knew she wouldn't be able to resist capture for long.

The god of mischief arrived at the mortals' flying fortress feeling slightly more battered than he had hoped to be, but still satisfied. Perhaps the oaf he had thought was his brother had shown up, but it didn't matter. Now Thor could be here to watch in person as his "adopted" brother took over the pathetic planet he loved so much. He was currently surrounded by a small group of people, who were readying to take him to his cell.

Suddenly, the redhead woman put her hand to her ear, listening intently as someone spoke to her through the device. Her face hardened. "Take Loki to his cell. I've got… something to take care of," she muttered mutinously.

Loki raised his eyebrows in interest. Somehow, the place was already in uproar. He wondered why. Perhaps the beast that still played at being a man had already lost control of himself. He didn't quite like that idea. He wasn't safe in his cell yet. He wanted to first have a little talk with their leader before he started to set his plan in motion. He wanted to sow seeds of discord. He wanted to manipulate them from within their own ranks.

And then, he could unleash the beasts SHIELD pretended weren't lost creatures. He would make them see. He would make them see that there were some people twisted beyond repair. And he was one of them.

Emmie stood, backed against a wall, a wicked smirk playing on her small pink lips. "It certainly took you long enough," she taunted, facing down Director Fury, the Black Widow, and two other agents she didn't know.

"How long have you been out?" the Director demanded.

Emmie didn't answer, twirling a lock of mousy brown hair around her slender finger.

"Emmie," the Black Widow growled.

"That's my name; don't wear it out," she said flippantly. Her one finger still twirled a strand of mousy brown hair, while the other hand was curled into a relaxed fist. A syringe filled with Substance Skull was hidden in it, the needle pressed flat against her wrist with care. They couldn't see the weapon. Her arm was facing outward, the outer forearm exposed, but not her wrist.

"How long have you been out of your room?" the Director demanded again.

"Long enough," she answered softly, her smirk widening into a grin. She loved the anger they got on their faces when she didn't give them a straight answer.

"How did you escape your room, Emmie?" the Director asked.

Emmie rolled her eyes. This was a question she didn't mind answering. Just to rub their incompetence in their faces. "You put me in a room with the door hinges on the _inside._," she spat. She stopped twirling her hair and reached into her back pocket. She produced three screws, which had once held her door to the wall.

All four of the SHIELD people in front of her let out little groans.

"Shit…" one of the agents muttered.

"Hand over the screws and empty your pockets," the Black Widow ordered.

Emmie wrinkled her nose like a kid who didn't want to eat her broccoli. "But I don't wanna," she whined.

The agents exchanged looks, all disturbed by the way she could both be a brutal killer and a young girl at the same time. Emmie smirked at their reactions.

The Director nodded towards Emmie, looking at the agents around him. "Get her."

"You sure you want to do that?" Emmie asked quietly, a soft smile curling her lips as she held up the syringe for them to see. She began flipping it between the fingers of her hand, over and under each finger. She didn't even prick herself with the point as she expertly twisted her hand again and the needle was once again hidden against the inside of her wrist.

The Director looked warily at her. "Get her," he muttered again.

The agents glanced at each other, as if not sure who would be the first to move forward to seize the murderous girl.

"Red rover, red rover, send your minions right over," Emmie sang wickedly, her green eyes glancing hatefully between the three agents. She knew it would only serve to creep them out more if she kept up the childish behavior as she taunted them with death.

Romanoff and another agent exchanged glances and darted forward at the same moment. Emmie dodged a punch from the male agent and aimed one in return, but her feet were swept from under her by a kick from the woman. Emmie fell, but yanked the woman's ankle when she hit the floor, making her lose her balance. She kicked out and hit the Achilles tendon of the man's foot, causing him to stumble as well. Emmie jumped up again, but the redheaded woman yanked her down again and knocked her hand away as Emmie tried to plunge the hypodermic needle into her flesh.

Romanoff wrenched the syringe out of the girl's hand and tossed it away. The two women were both on the ground, panting from the exertions of the fight.

Green eyes met blue for a moment as they both calculated what to do next. Romanoff shot her arm forward and grabbed one of the girl's wrists, twisting it painfully in an attempt to incapacitate her. Emmie growled and kicked the instep of the woman's ankle as she dragged her to her feet. Romanoff winced in pain and let the girl's wrist go. Emmie smiled in satisfaction as the woman took a few steps back from her.

But then something pricked her neck from behind, and she felt herself slipping away. She realized she had lost track of the other agents, focused on Romanoff. She was on the floor again, glaring at the colored blurs around her as they turned into bubbles. The bubbles of color started to pop, and in their wake was only darkness. She only hoped her dream/memory of her weak self wouldn't return.

**Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: Okay, I'm liking this so much better than the other chapter I had written… I had a chapter all written out and ready to be posted, but I really didn't like it. I like this one much better. So… yeah. We got a flashback to cute little Emmie, and evil Emmie did some ass-kicking with hypodermic needles and "Substance Skull…" I have no idea what it is, but I figured SHIELD would have some of it lying around. Holy smeg, Emmie, why you gotta be so freaking creepy? "Red rover, red rover…" I creeped myself out with that one. :P **

**So in the next chapter, we get to have Emmie and Loki meet. That's what I've been waiting to post! **

**Just had to get a chapter three up before I could have that happen. This was kind of filler because there are literally hours that pass between the "arriving to the Helicarrier" and the whole "Loki is now on the Helicarrier" things, so I had to have Emmie wreak some havoc in between. So hopefully no SHIELD agents accidentally take Substance Skull contaminated painkillers… ;) **

**Please favorite, follow, review, and/or PM me your thoughts/questions/criticisms. :P **


	4. Chapter 4

Dresser Knob

Emmie sat in her room/prison cell, making a weapon. She had managed, of course, to find a way to create one. She had woken up in this room a little while ago, and had immediately realized what had happened. She had been tranquilized and then put in her room. Again. She had sulked for a moment, fantasizing about what she would do to Romanoff and Fury and the other agents the next time she saw them. But that wasn't important now. Now she had to decide what to do.

She had spent a few minutes inspecting the room. It was almost identical to the one she had woken up in before, except the hinges of this room were on the outside of the door. Shame. It was pretty plain. There was a bed, attached to the floor so that she couldn't move it. The pillow and blanket were thin and flimsy, and wouldn't hold up to any strain. The dresser was located next to the door, and had drawers that wouldn't be removable from the main structure. It was also attached to the floor, immovable. She had next noticed a hole in the wall up near the ceiling, just above the door. It was a security camera, she knew. But she couldn't have that.

So she had disabled it. How? By using its location as a weapon against it. Being so short, she wouldn't normally be able to reach it. But since it was above the door, she had very carefully balanced precariously on the doorknob, one small foot on the metal handle, and stuffed a ripped piece of flimsy blanket into the little hole. And then she had turned her attention to making a weapon.

She had pulled one of the knobs on the dresser off, hoping there would be a screw. There wasn't (the knob was glued on rather than screwed), but she had found that the knob itself could be useful. It was a solid, sturdy plastic. As soon as she had realized this, she had sat cross-legged on the ground and began grinding it against the cement floor. She was sharpening it to a point. It was a weapon that could fit in your palm, only useful at close range. Still, it would do for now. She simply had to have something. Just in case. Of what, she wasn't sure. But just in case.

She kept one eye on the metal door to her room, making sure she would be able to hide her half-finished creation before anyone who came in saw it.

Loki waited until he was sure Director Fury was gone. He watched the camera mounted in the corner of his glass prison for a moment, wondering if anyone was watching. No matter. It would only take a second to do this.

Loki conjured an illusion of himself and then transported himself outside the cell. He turned back to the cell and saw himself pacing back and forth. He smirked. The humans would buy it. They were stupid.

It was now time to start manipulation. He would have to find the room of Emmie. Clint Barton had assured him that she would be here, and there was no way he could have lied to him. It was only a matter of finding her room. Then convince her to join him. Bait for SHIELD's agents when he escaped, taking the girl with him. Humans were so easy to manipulate.

He quickly strode away, wanting to get away from his cell before someone came along and saw him both inside and outside the cell.

Emmie finished sharpening the dresser handle and blew the excess plastic shavings away. She gently poked the tip and smiled. It was sharp, but not too sharp. She would still have to push to puncture something. It would still be a little more painful than necessary. That was what made it fun.

Loki stood outside a room with a metal door and a folder in the basket next to it. He lazily picked up the folder and flicked through its contents. He frowned slightly.

Barton had told Loki a general idea of the young girl's past. A daughter of a SHIELD agent, she had been exposed to the Tesseract on a daily basis as a possible future employee of SHIELD. Nothing wrong happened until a little under a year ago. It was one of the Tesseract's major fluctuations, and it made several of the other agents and scientists in the room clutch their heads with the searing pain of migraine headaches. A few had passed out; a few had suffered minor concussions from the Tesseract's power. Emmie, the youngest person there, had suffered the worst. She had passed out during the fluctuation, and when she had woken up, she had been changed.

As far as scientists could tell, the Tesseract had interfered with her brain. Why only hers, people wondered? They had decided it had something to do with the fact that her brain was still developing. Why make her an impulsive killer, people wondered? And no one had an answer to that. But Loki did.

As the god of mischief looked through the girl's folder, he shook his head. Mortals were so weak. His gaze flicked up to the door again. Behind it was Emmie. He wondered what she would actually be like. He wondered if she would try to kill him on the spot. Probably. And if she did, he would simply teach her a lesson in respect for her superiors. But he would first simply see how she reacted. He placed his hand on the doorknob and pushed. It had been locked moments before, but his magic had unlocked it the moment he reached for the handle.

The man stepped into the room, tensed and ready for an attack. None came. His blue eyes settled on the girl on the floor. His face showed no reaction to seeing her, but in his mind, he was surprised. Barton had told him of a girl who was mad, a manipulative devil child who would kill you as soon as she looked at you. The girl Barton described was evil, cunning, and, in his opinion, should be in a real prison rather than rehabilitation. And Loki saw none of those things as he looked at the pale-faced, teddy-haired, green-eyed young woman, barely more than a child.

The girl sat cross-legged on the floor, her hands folded together in her lap. Her face was a mask of docile curiosity, but inside, she was calculating how to handle the situation. She had never seen this man before. He was tall, with slicked back black hair, down to his shoulders. His eyes were blue. He wore clothes that looked like they belonged in a medieval fantasy movie.

Her green eyes looked at him with innocent questioning. His blue eyes looked at her with an unreadable expression of something dark and sinister.

Now that Loki was here, he wasn't sure exactly how he wanted to start this off. Should he appear as a friend, a threat, an imposing figure, or one of equal status of her? He decided to see what she did when he said her name…. her real name, not her nickname.

"Maria Hill," he said shortly.

He saw some emotion stir in her innocent green eyes. Something that hinted at a darker depth to the girl who looked like an angel.

"That's your name, isn't it?" he asked.

Emmie nodded slowly, hating to acknowledge her name. She was named after her mother. She didn't like that. "People call me Emmie," she supplied.

Loki was rather impressed. Her voice remained soft and sweet, demure, and had a definite tentativeness, as if she was a little nervous to be speaking to him. Her face was one of innocent wondering. If Barton hadn't told him of the true nature of this girl, he wouldn't have guessed. Except for that brief stirring of darkness in her wide green eyes when he said her name. But even that could have been imagined.

"I know what they call you. I know a lot about you," Loki said mysteriously.

The girl blinked. That comment had actually surprised her. It almost sounded like a threat. But this was a new person she had never met. A new toy to play with and break. This person, this man, had never seen her dark side. If she could only convince him there was no dark side, she could catch him off guard and see just how effective her newly made weapon was. She cocked her head slightly to one side. "What do you know about me?" she asked softly.

Loki took another step into the room and let the door slowly close behind him. "A lot," He simply repeated.

Emmie smiled and shook her head slowly. "I don't know what you mean, sir." She didn't want to show her inner irritation at this man. He was now fully within her room. Which meant it would take him a few extra seconds to run if he needed to. And he would, soon. She would make sure of that. But the part that irritated her was the lack of information he was supplying her with.

Loki slowly walked forward until he stood directly in front of the girl, who still sat cross-legged on the floor. "Do you know who I am?" he questioned her.

Emmie fought back the urge to make some kind of retort. She fought the urge to kick out with her foot and make him fall to the floor. She fought the urge to use her weapon. She had to give it some time before she did that. There was something different about this man. "No, I don't know who you are," she said, her voice remaining soft and sweet. "Who are you?" she asked innocently.

Loki smirked slightly. He was starting to get the feeling that he wanted to see just how far he had to push her to bring on the devil from within the angel. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he taunted, now turning and walking in a circle around her.

Emmie felt the anger rising inside her, but she held it at bay. It wouldn't do to kill him yet. She first had to find out who he was. "Yes, I would like to know," she answered with a half-joking, half-self-conscious smile.

Loki smiled. He could almost see the way she was itching to drop the charade of angelic perfection and claw his throat out with her small, perfect, angelic looking hands. He decided to simply not answer her remark.

Emmie bit the inside of her bottom lip, forcing herself to be calm. She pressed her palms together a little harder. The shape of the sharpened dresser knob felt like a promise. The sharpened tip was in between her two middle fingers. She was careful not to bend those fingers. She didn't want to cut her own fingers before she even got to cut someone else. She gazed up at the man, still circling her like a vulture. She kept her face one of quizzical confusion and curiosity.

"Tell me, Maria, have you ever actually succeeded in killing anyone?" he suddenly asked. Loki watched her expression carefully as he asked the question. Her green eyes showed only a flicker of alarm before transforming into a slight frown.

"I don't know what you mean," Emmie repeated, not liking the way this conversation was going. This man was rather determined not to fall for her little act. She would convince him, eventually. She just had to keep it up a little longer.

Loki raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you do."

Emmie simply shook her head, her light brown hair swinging around her shoulders.

Loki continued to circle the young girl. He was enjoying taunting her. She was trying so hard to remain angelic. She was doing a fairly good job, even. Her green eyes held polite confusion, but she was fidgeting a little, as if itching to jump up and… Loki smirked. She was itching to jump up and strangle him, probably. "If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then you mean that the folder outside the door is full of fictional files on a girl who simply looks exactly like you and has the same name?"

Emmie blinked. She had to keep up the in-the-dark charade. "I don't know what's in the file outside."

Loki rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to get anywhere with this tactic of intimidating her into making her spill some information. He reached down and grabbed her right arm, pulling her to her feet with a rough jerk.

Emmie gasped and winced in pain as the man suddenly yanked her arm and dragged her to her feet. The sudden movement made her lose her careful grip on the sharpened dresser knob. She had to suddenly clench her left fist so that she didn't drop it. The tip dug into her left hand's palm as she fought to keep a hold on it. An inch long gash opened up on her hand, and she bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out in pain.

Loki brought Emmie's face as level with his as it could get, her height being barely over five feet. In her green eyes, he saw only fright and pain, and he didn't know why. Why wasn't she the monster in disguise he had been promised.

Emmie stared at the man, trying to think of what she could do. Her right arm was now useless, tightly held in his grasp. Her left hand was in unbearable pain, wracked with throbbing from the bleeding gash. And she couldn't do anything. She was trying to keep her mask on, trying not to reveal her true nature this soon. She had to get out of his grasp without giving herself away. She let her body go limp, letting her legs buckle, so the only thing keeping her up was the man's grip on her arm. Her bottom lip trembled and tears filled her green eyes. "What are you—what are you doing?" she whimpered.

Loki glared at the pathetic girl. He let her fall to the floor and turned away. Barton must have been wrong. He must have been misinformed. It appeared this girl was of no more use to him than a stuffed toy bear. She was even weaker than most humans, housing no insatiable urge to kill anything and everything. This girl was infuriatingly innocent.

Emmie cried out in pain as she hit the floor. The sharpened dresser knob poked into her hand again as she landed, but she didn't make it seem like that was the reason she had cried out. She let tears run down her cheeks as the man turned away from her, looking furious. She sobbed once, making sure the man wouldn't return his attention to her for a few moments. He didn't look back at her. Emmie dropped her look of tearful innocence and shot him a venomous glare behind his back, but she continued to make crying sounds. She opened her clenched left fist to see her bloody hand. She winced at the sight. The cuts were nasty, ragged and bloody, oozing more red liquid even as she watched. She whimpered again to keep up her crying charade as she plucked the sharpened knob from the small pool of blood with her right hand.

Loki kept his back to the young girl. He couldn't stand to look at her pale, pretty, tear-stained face. She was the epitome of human's angels. And he hated it. He was looking for a killer in disguise, and instead he had found … the human version of a puppy. He let out a disgusted scoff and whipped around so that he could smash her little innocent, empty head. He froze as he turned, finding himself face to face with the girl.

Emmie froze, too. She had stood up from the floor a moment ago, creeping up behind the man to stab him in the back with her homemade weapon. The man seemed so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn't seemed to notice that she had stopped pretending to cry like a child. She had now dropped her mask of innocence, not caring that the man hadn't told her who he was. She didn't care anymore. She just wanted to kill him. She crept up behind him until he was an arm's length away, almost close enough for her to shove her weapon into his back. And then he had turned around.

They stared at each other in surprise.

There was a moment where neither moved. Then Emmie shot her right arm forward, lightning-fast, toward his gut. It didn't matter now that he had seen the evil expression on her face. He would be dead in a few minutes, anyway.

Loki caught her hand before it got close enough to make contact with his stomach. He yanked her arm so she came closer. Emmie let out a little surprised gasp, but he barely noticed. He tightened his grip on her right wrist and inspected her hand, still holding the sharpened dresser knob. He looked at the weapon carefully, gripped tightly in her now-trembling hand. He wasn't entirely sure what she had made it out of, but it was obvious this was a homemade weapon, sharpened to a perfect point. It was already covered in blood.

His blue eyes travelled from the girl's right hand to her face. He smirked. Her angelic face had transformed into a silent snarl, full of hatred, anger, and loathing. Her green eyes were no longer innocent and wondering. They were burning with a green fire from hell. Her pink lips were drawn back, baring her white teeth in anger.

Loki smiled wickedly. "There you are, little murderess."

**Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: *sighs dreamily* Ah, Emmie trying to fool Loki… and then trying to kill him. And she's so clever… Disabling the security camera, and then sharpening a dresser knob into a weapon… D'aww, my little ingenious psycho… *tears of pride* **

**Ahem. I mean, she's a little evil twisted thing, isn't she? Ahem. I'm not proud of her. Ahem. **

**The next chapter will be a continuation of this scene, where Loki has now seen her vicious side, and has her (literally) in his grasp. Stay tuned to see how **_**that **_**goes down…**

**Please favorite, follow, and (most importantly to me) review and or PM me. I'd love to hear suggestions/questions/comments/criticisms. I'm really wishing more people were giving me feedback… only got two reviews so far, and I'd love to hear what you guys think… I promise I don't bite… **

**hard... **


	5. Chapter 5

Fists and Feet

Loki grinned, looking at the hateful expression on the girl's face. "There you are, little murderess" he hissed.

Emmie let out a growl of frustration and tried to yank her hand away from his grip. He didn't let go, his only response being an even broader grin and a tightening grip on her wrist. Emmie let out another growl and kicked his shin as hard as she could.

Loki just smirked at her feeble attempts to escape his grasp.

Emmie snarled and tried a different tactic. She let her weight fall, like she had a few minutes ago. Her knees buckled, and the only thing holding her up was the man. He merely shook his head, smiling.

Growing desperate, like a wild animal in captivity, she started yanking wildly to escape. "Let me go!" she finally exclaimed in a pleading voice. Her voice was not quite the same anymore. It was still holding its sweet, demure note, but the tone was entirely different, angry and desperate. Her soft words were gone now as she let out a string of curses at the man holding her in place.

"As you wish," Loki murmured, and released her wrist.

Emmie wasn't expecting him to actually let her go, and so her weight was still leaning backwards when he let go. She stumbled backwards and collapsed against the wall. Her hateful green eyes fixed on him. She clutched her right wrist, where he had been holding her, with her other, bloody hand. Her wrist was going to get a bruise.

Loki smirked. He was satisfied. The girl was really a marvelous actress. She had fooled him for a moment there into thinking she was innocent-minded. It appeared that was far from the truth. She now crouched in the corner of the room across from him, rubbing the wrist he had held so tightly. He could've easily broken it, but had chosen not to. He realized her other hand was bloody. He wasn't sure why that was, but it didn't really matter all that much. He had broken through her innocent mask.

Emmie tried to catch her breath, the panicked thrashing leaving her heart racing and out of breath. She winced as fresh pain shot through the gashes on her left hand. A drop of blood made a small drip as it fell onto the floor. Emmie squeezed her eyes shut, hating the fear in her gut. She clenched her fists, and her eyes flew open again as she realized something. Her hateful green eyes shot to the man, still smirking.

"Looking for this?" he asked lazily, holding up the sharpened knob in his hand.

Emmie's heart sank and she trembled slightly with both fear and anger. "Who the hell are you?" she hissed.

Loki considered not telling her, but he knew she wouldn't take kindly to that. And he needed her to start trusting him, maybe liking him. He needed to manipulate her into being on his side. And that would be a complicated process, starting with the right kind of introductions. "I am Loki."

Emmie narrowed her eyes, the name stirring something in the back of her pain-filled mind. "You're the man SHIELD is working against. You stole the…" she trailed off, remembering the Tesseract, and the pain it had brought her. That pain made the gashes in her hand seem like pinpricks.

Loki nodded slowly, seeing memory stirring behind the haze of pain in her eyes. "I stole the Tesseract, and SHIELD wants it back."

Emmie glared at him. She didn't know how she was supposed to react to this man now that she knew who he was. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. But who was her enemy? The man who had just attacked her? Or SHIELD, who had put her in this room, who had locked her up for months, punishing her for doing things she naturally felt the need to do? She didn't know.

Loki's eyes scanned her face. She seemed to be calculating something. "What do you think of that?" he asked softly.

Emmie glared at him. "I think I still want to kill you, and will find a way to do that, even if you have my weapon," she vowed mutinously.

Loki smirked and inspected the knob again. "Interesting little thing. What did you make it out of?"

Emmie didn't answer.

Loki raised an eyebrow. "You'll answer me when I ask you a question, or I'll use this on you," he held up the sharpened knob.

Emmie narrowed her green eyes at him. She couldn't figure out if he was bluffing. She decided it wasn't worth finding out. "The dresser knob," she spat.

Loki's eyes travelled to the dresser, which was located next to the door. One of the knobs was missing from a drawer. He smirked. "Clever."

Emmie didn't answer, still unsure what to do. She wasn't sure why he kept smirking, but she wanted to wipe it off his face and replace it with a grimace of pain. But he was dangerous. That was something she had obviously already gathered.

Loki's blue eyes returned to her, still crouching in the corner. "So you really are a little demon, aren't you?" he asked conversationally.

Emmie glared, not answering.

He smiled and nodded. "That's all I wanted to know. " he started to head to the door, planning to leave her now. He would be back later, naturally, but now he wanted to leave her guessing.

She jumped up and stood in front of him. "Like hell," she said through gritted teeth, staring murderously at him as she blocked his path. "You're going to tell me what you want from me. You didn't just come for a friendly visit."

Loki shook his head. "No offense, Maria, but I don't think anyone would come to you for a _friendly visit." _

Emmie stood up a little straighter, though she knew that as far as intimidating went, she was about as scary as a cupcake. That was why she normally resorted to trickery and subtlety. But now, Loki wasn't going to fall for that, and she just needed some kind of hint from him. "Then tell me what you really came for," Emmie said, her voice a low threat.

Loki leaned down a little, bringing his face almost level with hers. He responded in a whisper. "And what if I say no?"

Emmie's green eyes fixed on his blue. "I'll persuade you," she murmured simply.

Loki shook his head with a disbelieving smile. It was hard to take any threat from this little girl seriously. "And what if your sharpened dresser knob says no?"

Emmie smiled slyly and drew back a little, increasing the distance between them. "You mean this sharpened dresser knob?" she asked, her soft, innocent voice returning with a vicious mocking in it as she held up her small hand, holding the weapon.

Loki's eyes flashed in surprise as he realized that the sharpened plastic was no longer in his hand. He wasn't sure when she had once again gotten ahold of it, but it was both impressive and infuriating to realize that she had swiped it from him at some point. "Clever little monster, aren't you?" he smirked. He then reached forward quickly and gave her a sudden shove. He stepped past her as she stumbled back and he continued to the door.

Emmie was caught off guard when he suddenly pushed her, throwing off her balance. He moved to leave the room again, but she was determined to not let him win so easily. She dove forward and pushed the sole of her foot into the back of his knee. He stumbled as Emmie regained her balance again. She used his unbalanced moment to drive her hand, still holding the sharpened dresser knob, towards his neck.

Loki fell to his knees, surprised when the girl struck fast and hard at the back of his knee. He turned quickly, just in time to see her hand plunging towards his neck, the weapon in hand. He caught her wrist in his hand again, and she snarled in frustration. He used his grip on her wrist to flip her onto her back, pinning her to the ground. She brought her knee up, driving it into his stomach, and he let out an involuntary groan, but did not let her up. He kept his hands wrapped around her forearms, just below the elbows, so that her arms were immobilized. Emmie thrashed her legs in vain, trying desperately to get a way out of the stronger man's grasp. All to no avail.

Loki smiled as she stopped struggling, glaring up at him with a murderous anger. "Finished, Maria?" he asked scathingly.

"Stop calling me that!" she demanded, her voice filled with an almost-anguish.

Loki didn't answer her request with anything more than a smirk. "Are you finished, Maria?" he repeated.

Emmie felt utter hatred burning in her veins. "I'm never finished," she hissed.

Loki only looked more satisfied. "That's what I wanted to hear."

He let her go and stood up, leaving her on the floor, panting.

Emmie's anger flared up again, and she dove for his legs. She yanked hard on one ankle, and he fell to his knees again. This time, she used all the strength in her small form to drag him all the way to the ground, now flat on his back. She pushed one knee into his chest in an attempt to pin him in place, but she knew her light weight wasn't enough to keep him down. She lashed out once more with the sharpened dresser knob towards his neck.

Loki caught her wrist in his hand yet again, and wrested the weapon out of her grasp. "_Would you stop that?_" he asked in exasperation as he twisted her small wrist in punishment. He flipped her onto her back again and pinned her there easily.

Emmie just smiled up at him. "Do you really want the answer to that question?"

Loki stared at her blankly. "What will it take for you to let me leave?" he really didn't care. If he really wanted to, he could leave. But he found her tenacity… admirable.

Emmie smirked mischievously. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she asked mockingly.

Loki marveled at her nerve, repeating his own taunt from when she asked who he was when he first entered her room. "You're a little devil," he remarked, giving the girl's twisted smirk a once-over. He suddenly realized something. He had noticed the blood earlier, but hadn't given it much thought. Now he realized there were bloody handprints in several places on the floor, and her hands were smeared with red marks. Now unsure, he slowly let her arms go and backed away.

Emmie remained where she was for a moment, unsure if he would make for the door again. She wouldn't let him leave until she found out what he wanted from her. He didn't move, standing a few feet away, watching her. Emmie slowly sat up and looked at him suspiciously.

Loki stepped forward and held his hand out to help her up. She didn't take it, glaring mistrustfully at him. He didn't move, his hand still outstretched for her to take. There was a tense silence as neither moved, waiting for the other to attack without warning. Neither did. So Emmie reached up with her right hand and took Loki's. He pulled her up, not as roughly as he had earlier, but still, his grip was strong and insistent. And he didn't let go once she was back on her feet.

Loki pulled her closer, though Emmie tried to pull away. Her struggles made no difference, and Loki flipped her hand over to inspect her palm. There was nothing; it was unmarked except for smudges of blood all over the wrist and areas of the palm. "Give me your other hand," he ordered quietly, knowing that was the hand that was somehow hurt.

Emmie made no move to do as he directed.

"Give me your other hand," he ordered, a slight threatening tone in his voice this time.

Emmie glared. "And what if I say no?" she whispered.

Loki shook his head. "You like to mock, don't you?"

Emmie smirked but didn't respond.

"Give me your other hand unless you want me to demonstrate the fastest, most efficient way to break a wrist," he said quietly, his grip tightening on her wrist, still clasped in his hand.

Emmie gave him a mutinous look, getting the sense that he was bluffing, but that he would somehow make her regret not following his orders. She hesitantly held out her left hand, clenched in a fist. It was still throbbing from where the sharpened knob had sliced her palm. Loki let her right hand slip from his hand as he took her left. He flipped it so that her palm was facing up, but she just clenched her fist tighter, determined not to let him see the gashes.

Loki sighed as she clenched her fist tighter. This was the hand that was hurt. It was covered in far more blood, and it was trembling slightly. He held her wrist tightly with one hand and tried to pry her fingers out of the fist they were in. Emmie started to struggle again, jerking her arm away while her right hand grabbed at the hand trying to pry her fingers away.

Loki raised his eyes from her bloody fist to her green eyes. He gave her a warning look. "I can demonstrate how to break your left wrist if you'd like," he murmured. He tried prying her fingers out of a fist again, and she allowed him to see her palm.

Loki surveyed the girl's small hand. There were two gashes, ragged and bleeding. The center of her palm was sticky with blood that had pooled from the two wounds. It looked like it hurt a lot worse than the girl was letting on.

"What have you done to yourself?" he wondered out loud.

Emmie knew it was a rhetorical question, so she didn't bother answering. She wanted him to let her hand go. She was hating how he had her at his mercy. She still felt the urge to kill him. But now she had a fear mixed in with the urge. For the first time in a long time, she had a remotely reasonable cause to kill: self-preservation. This was the first person in a long time that had actually posed a threat to her. And he was the only one she had felt any kind of fear of.

His eyes flicked up to hers again, now finished inspecting her bleeding hand. "Sit down on the bed," he told her.

Emmie's eyes flashed. She didn't like the sound of that. "No," she said bluntly.

"I said _sit_."

"I said _no." _

Silence.

Loki smirked. "Allow me to persuade you." Emmie's arm was suddenly twisted violently, and the next thing she knew, her arm was behind her back, still in Loki's grasp, at a painfully awkward angle. "Now, you'll sit on the bed if you don't want your arm dislocated."

Emmie felt tears start to sting her eyes. Not fake ones, not this time. This time, they were real. The trauma of the last ten minutes was starting to get to her unstable mind. She silently walked to the bed, her arm and hand both throbbing in synchronized pain behind her back.

Loki let her arm go as they reached the simple twin-size bed. Emmie sat without question, and Loki sat to her left. He took her left hand in his again, surprisingly gentle. Emmie involuntarily tugged in an attempt to free her hurt hand, but Loki didn't let go, looking over her palm.

"Really, what _did _you do?" he murmured, not meeting her eyes.

Emmie smiled wryly. "I almost lost my grip on the dresser knob when you pulled me to my feet," she said in a whisper. She was on the verge of freaking out, sitting on the edge of her bed with this man holding her hand oh-so carefully. "It cut me when I clenched my fist to keep from dropping it."

Loki nodded slowly, looking at the gashes. He started to trail a finger over the wounds, but Emmie tried to yank her hand away again, alarm in her bright green eyes. Loki let out a huff. "If you don't mind, I'd appreciate you stop your thrashing around like a frightened rabbit, Maria."

"Then quit calling me Maria," Emmie said resentfully, forcing herself to be still.

Loki gently trailed his fingertips over the girl's bloody palm. "Would you really prefer to be called Emmie?"

Emmie couldn't help but allow another twisted smirk cross her pink lips. "As long as you're asking what I prefer, I prefer Mastermind Murderess."

Loki looked up from her hand, amusement in his blue eyes. "Mastermind Murderess, hmm? Creative title, I suppose."

Emmie smiled a little at his amusement. Her smile wasn't twisted or mocking or angry. Just a little true smile.

Loki's hand gently closed her hand back into a fist, and he let it go. He glanced towards the metal door, and then back at her. "Don't tell anyone I gave you this, but…" he pulled something out of seemingly thin air and set it down on the scratchy bed sheets.

Emmie stared at the small object. It was about twice the length of her thumb: a small dagger in a sheath. Her eyes widened and she looked at him in shock.

"I'm going to put it under your pillow for now, but carry it with you when you get back." Loki slid the dagger into the pillowcase at the head of the bed.

Emmie stared at him. "Carry it with me when I get back from where? Why are you giving me a weapon?"

He just gave her a little smile and put a finger to his lips. He then stood up. "I'll be seeing you soon, I'm sure."

Emmie was so confused. "Wait, what are you-?"

Suddenly her attention was drawn to the metal door of her room as it swung open without warning. Agent Coleson stood in the doorway. "Hello, Emmie. We'd like you to come with me for a little bit."

Emmie's eyes flashed to where Loki had been standing just a second ago. There was nothing there. She smirked slightly. Then she opened her closed left fist. She smiled even more broadly. Her hand was whole once again, and where the pool of blood had been, there was only a small pool of water. Glancing at her arms and at the floor around the room, she saw that all the bloody handprints and drops of blood had been turned into water. Emmie smiled to herself, once again questioning who the enemy of her enemy was.

Then she glanced up at Coleson.

"Come on," he said again, beckoning her towards him.

Emmie's lips curled slowly into a smile. "And what if I say no?"

**Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: *happy dance* Hee… I love this chapter. I know I've been asked to not let Loki always have the upper hand, but in this chapter, he kind of did. Don't worry, that won't last long. Soon they'll be in a mental grapple for manipulative power over each other, trying to get each other's favor and trust… The next chapter will be… I'm thinking something with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner… but I might change my mind. Suggestions if you got 'em? Okey. Anyways.**

**I've written some rough drafts of future chapters where Loki and Emmie do have romantic feelings for each other, and I'm liking the rough drafts, but that part of me that knows that Emmie's only seventeen doesn't approve… I may need help with this. Keep in mind, if I do end up writing this as a romance, it will not be the kind of clichéd type of romance other fan fictions usually follow… but if you haven't figured out that this fan fiction is not a cliché yet, then I have obviously not done my job right so far. Opinions, please?**

**Favorite, follow, (and especially) review or PM me. I'd love to talk and/or hear suggestions and/or answer questions. I promise I'm not a total psycho. Wait… I'm writing this story… Hmmm. Never mind, I may be a psycho. But I promise I won't knock you out with a baking sheet or stab you with a sharpened dresser knob. Can't make any promises about hypodermic needles. Heh heh. Kidding. ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

Hidden Insults

**Thank you from LoquaciousQuibbler: Gonna give a little shout-out to those who have reviewed/favorited/followed the story. Makes me sooo happy when people review (hint, hint, wink, wink, nudge, nudge). Just ask any of the people who have thus far reviewed… I will always PM reviewers my thanks. Always willing to make friends, and will read your stories if you ask me to. So step right up, don't be shy, and review and/or PM me. **

"No. No way. No freaking way. No freaking way in hell."

"Stark, you can stop adding on to your many ways to say no," Director Fury growled.

Stark glared. "This isn't the crap we signed up for. No, I didn't sign up for this, period. But I did not agree to pick a little psycho's brain to see if I can be some miracle worker and fix her little twisted mind." Stark let out a huff of indignation. "Dammit, Nick, I'm a doctor, not a therapist!"

"For one, therapists usually have a doctorate, and so therefore are doctors. And two, do you even have a doctorate?" Agent Maria Hill asked, a frown knitting her brow.

Stark sighed in frustration. "It's a figure of speech, Hill. And my point is that this is not what I came here for, and I'm not going to be some little psychotic chick's therapist!"

"Quit talking about her like that," Hill muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Stark, who deflated slightly as he remembered that it was her daughter he was talking about.

"I, for one, _have _a doctorate, but it's not that kind of doctorate. Two, I did agree to this, though I'm starting to wonder if I should have," Dr. Bruce Banner put in here. "I know I agreed to try to help when Agent Romanoff spoke to me in Calcutta about the mission, but… after what she did earlier…" he shook his head slowly. "I'm really not sure this is a good idea. Director Fury, Agent Hill, I'm afraid this is more dangerous than I thought it would be. If she tried to pull another trick like she did in the medical bay, I can't guarantee things… won't go bad," he finished, giving the others a meaningful look. "If she tried to hurt me… you know what I mean."

The Director and the agent exchanged looks.

"You two are the best chance we have of making any kind of headway into curing her…" the director trailed off. "Her condition, I guess is the best way to put it."

"Like I care," Stark spat. "I'm not getting stabbed in the name of therapy. Science, maybe, but—"

"We're not asking you to be therapists," Agent Hill cut in. "We just need you to do some of the standard tests. She'll be handcuffed to her chair, and she won't be able to do anything to you."

"From what I've heard, handcuffs aren't enough to stop the kid," Banner muttered.

Hill looked despairingly between the two scientists. She opened her mouth to make some kind of defense in Emmie's name, but the Director cut in.

"Mr. Stark, Dr. Banner, you are going to do as I've asked." His tone left no room for questioning. "Are we clear?"

Both men sighed and nodded, looking over the clipboards they had been handed.

"Good. Agent Hill, come with me while the gentlemen get to it," the Director nodded.

Hill followed the Director, but glanced over her shoulder towards the men as they made their way to the room where she knew her daughter, who she hadn't seen in nearly a year, was handcuffed to a chair.

Emmie's mind was whirling. She had been so caught off-guard with the events of the last half hour that she didn't put up a struggle as Coleson handcuffed her and led her into a room. Then she was left alone, handcuffed to the armrests of an uncomfortable chair. She sat in front of a metal table, and two other chairs were at the table as well. They were unoccupied, but she was getting the feeling they would be filled soon.

She clenched her left hand into a fist, flexing her hand in wonder. It didn't hurt in the least. All excruciating pain had disappeared from the places the gashes left by her dresser knob had been. She didn't know how Loki had done it. But she was awfully curious to find out.

There was a click as the door unlocked, and the teen stiffened slightly before quickly relaxing and putting on her mask of innocence and naivety.

The door opened, and two men walked in. They briefly stopped when they caught sight of her. Emmie didn't move, her wide green eyes flicking between the two men as they took in the sight of a young, sweet girl handcuffed to a chair.

Bruce and Tony exchanged glances as they walked in to see a young woman that looked like she wouldn't hurt anything more than a lollipop. This wasn't what they had been expecting. They had been told, of course, that she looked like an angel, but was really a manipulative demon. They just hadn't believed she would really look like the harmless cherub everyone had described.

Stark gently elbowed Banner, and they went to the empty chairs around the table.

Emmie watched them carefully. They looked… less than sure. They looked grudging, as if they didn't want to be here. And maybe she could use that to her advantage. But first she had to figure out what they wanted. She had failed to do that with Loki already today. She didn't plan on not getting what she wanted twice in the same hour.

Awkward silence reigned for a moment as the two scientists looked uncomfortably between each other, their clipboards, and the silent girl. Each waited for the other to speak first, then glanced at the girl to see if she would speak. She didn't, looking at them like a curious deer.

Banner cleared his throat and spoke first. "Hello…" he paused awkwardly as he waited for the girl to respond. She didn't. "I'm Dr. Banner. We're here to ask you a few questions and see if we can figure out what's been going on with you the past year or so."

Tony rolled his eyes. For a guy who claimed to not be "that kind of doctor," Bruce was sure starting to sound like one. "I'm Mr. Tony Stark. You've probably heard of me," he said shortly. "I'm here to be helping with what he said," he jerked his thumb towards Banner.

Now both men waited for the young girl to say something. But she merely stayed silent. Emmie wanted to make them uncomfortable, and leave them guessing. She would pull a little of her usual games: a little innocent-eyes, a little too-timid-to-talk. She had already found out what they wanted. They were shrinks. She had no interest in having them ask her personal questions about her life story. She had no interest in telling them how she felt when she plunged sharp objects into flesh. They wouldn't like her answers, anyway. She could play with them, though. She could confuse them with an act of innocence. Maybe it would work on them.

Loki had infuriated her earlier by getting her to take her mask off so soon… and he hadn't been scared of her. He had been… satisfied to see her evil side. It confused her. So in return, she wanted to confuse these men by giving them two conflicting stories: whatever they had heard about her, and what she would act like now.

"This is usually the part where the other person says their name and lies through their teeth,, saying that it's nice to meet us," Tony Stark said, like he was speaking to someone stupid.

Banner threw him a warning look. Personally, he didn't want to get this girl riled up. He'd rather not have to see her try to kill them. That wouldn't turn out well, he was sure.

The girl didn't seem offended by Stark's words or tone. In fact, she looked like she didn't quite understand his meaning. Her small pink lips tilted up at the corners in a curious smile. She cocked her head to one side and quirked her eyebrows. Her green eyes were merely curious, not plotting or angry or murderous.

It always amused Emmie when people just waited for her to scream curses and throw daggers. And she never did. At least, not when they expected her to. She always waited until they thought she wouldn't hurt a fly.

Tony and Bruce exchanged glances, uneasy with the girl's silence. This wasn't what they had been expecting. The girl put on a face of cute quizzicality. She reminded Stark of a puppy. The way she tilted her head and stared at them expectantly was… endearing. It made her seem eager and guileless. If this really was all an act, she had managed to perfect the routine.

Banner looked deeply unsettled. He was starting to feel a kind of disgust for SHIELD. How could they handcuff this child to a chair and claim that she was a monster who needed to be locked up? She looked like she didn't even fully understand what was going on around her right now. This girl seemed naïve and sweet. Maybe when she tried to murder people, she didn't quite understand what she was doing. Maybe she just lost control of herself or something. Maybe, somehow, she didn't have a choice that she became a monster that killed people. Maybe she didn't mean it. The doctor forced himself to look away from her open green eyes. No. He couldn't think like that. He and Stark were supposed to just get their job done here so they could continue tracking the Tesseract. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "So we've just got some tests to do…"

Tony tore his gaze away from the young girl, who looked so naïve and sweet and innocent. There was no way she could be as twisted and murderous as everyone said. "Yeah… tests," he muttered, forcing himself to look at his clipboard rather than the girl's pure green eyes.

Emmie allowed herself a smirk as they forced themselves not to look at her. She was getting to them. They were probably now wondering how the hell people could call her a murderous monster. They were wondering if everyone was wrong about her. Of course, the only wrong ones were them. But they would find out soon enough.

"It's okay if we ask you a few questions, right?" Tony asked distractedly.

Emmie pretended to think over the question, as if trying to understand what he meant. She frowned slightly, biting her bottom lip. Then her eyes brightened and she nodded vigorously, as if the metaphoric light bulb had turned on over her head.

The men couldn't help but let a small smile tug at their lips. She was kind of cute. She reminded them a little bit of a kindergartener trying to remember what came in the alphabet after 'c.' They would scrunch up their little noses and concentrate hard for a moment before suddenly remembering it was 'd' and answer excitedly. That was the exact expression the girl had when she answered the question Stark had asked.

"Okay…" Banner looked down at his clipboard. "Tony, you think we should start with… think the word tests first?"

"Sure." Tony flipped through the papers on the clipboard and looked up at Emmie as he clicked a pen a few times. "I'm going to say a word, and you tell me the first word that comes to your mind."

Emmie nodded slowly.

Tony frowned slightly. "You _can _talk, right?"

Emmie nodded again slowly.

Tony looked skeptical. "Okay."

"How many words are there on that test?" Emmie asked softly.

Banner and Stark both looked up in surprise when Emmie's demure voice floated their way.

"What?" Stark asked, caught off guard.

"How many words are on the test? You said you'd say a word, and I tell you the word I think of," Emmie murmured sweetly.

"Oh." Tony looked over the paper. "There's only eight. You can do that, right?"

Emmie considered, putting on her 'I have to think really hard to answer your question' face. "Eight?" Then she nodded again. "Okay. You can ask me."

"I'll just do this one, and then you can do the Rorschach ?" Stark asked Bruce, who nodded. "Okay. So the first word is… sleep."

"Sunshine," Emmie said immediately.

The two men looked quizzical, but Tony wrote it down. "Food."

"Cotton candy."

Tony blinked, looking skeptical, and wrote her answer down. "Next word… fun."

"Rainbows."

They finished the test, each of Emmie's answers making the men look more and more quizzical. Her answers had all been sweet, fluffy, cutesy answers. Stark was starting to get the feeling that this girl was playing them. Something was off. A quick glance at Banner told him he was thinking the same thing.

Emmie could see her obviously overly-innocent and sweet answers were making them get suspicious. Good. That had been her aim. She hoped they would find the hidden message in her answers soon, but she wasn't sure if she would be able to see their reactions, or if they would finally realize her hidden message after they had already left.

Banner gave Stark an uneasy look. "Should we do the Rorschach, then?"

Tony nodded slowly, looking suspiciously at the angelic girl on the other side of the table.

"Okay," Banner started. "I'm going to hold up a picture, and you tell me what you see."

Emmie nodded slowly.

Banner held up the first picture.

Emmie looked at it carefully. Honestly, what she saw was a bunch of ink blots. But she already had her answer planned out. "Smiling cats riding elephants while yaks open umbrellas."

The men blinked in surprise. "You see…. _What?_"

Emmie smiled a little. "Smiling cats riding elephants while yaks open umbrellas."

Banner and Stark exchanged looks, bewildered.

"Hand me that picture," Stark demanded, and he snatched the Rorschach test and looked it over. "Mm… don't see it, but alright… write it down, Banner."

"Make sure you write it down in the right order and don't add any extra words or leave any out," Emmie chimed in.

The men threw her suspicious looks.

"Okay… next one," Banner muttered as he finished scribbling her answer down. "Tell me what you see here."

Emmie looked over the next picture he held up. "Skunks caroling Rudolph, eating white yogurt on unicycles."

The men once again blinked in surprise, and Banner started to write down her answer as Stark once again looked over the paper with ink blots.

"What the f…" Stark trailed off, looking between his clipboard, the girl, and the ink blot test in his hands. He glanced at Banner. "Do one more."

Banner looked very curious. "What is she…?"

"Shh. Trust me. Do one more and I think I might be able to figure it out," Tony hushed him.

Emmie smiled slightly, pleased with the suspicious looks they were giving her.

Banner cleared his throat and held up one more ink blot picture. "What do you see here?"

Emmie looked over the picture. "Sweet candied rhubarb eaten while you ostracize umpires," she answered coolly.

Banner looked bewildered.

Stark furrowed his brow. "Write it down, Bruce. Then give it to me."

Banner wrote down her latest bizarre answer, then slid his clipboard over to Stark. Stark immediately went to work, comparing her answers with the answers he had written down for the word test. He used a pen to scribble some things down. "Sunshine, cotton candy, rainbows, Elmo, willows, yams, opals, and to top the cake, unicorns. And then the first Rorschach result, smiling cats riding elephants while yaks open umbrellas. And skunks caroling Rudolph, eating white yogurt on unicycles. And sweet candied rhubarb eaten while you ostracize umpires," he muttered to himself. He circled something on the papers. He shook his head, looking slightly impressed. He looked up at Emmie. She gave him her sweetest smile. "That's cute, kid. Real cute," he said drily.

Banner looked between Emmie and Stark. "What?"

"It's an acronym, Banner. Every answer she gave us is an acronym." Stark slid the papers over to the doctor, who looked over them, his face slowly turning from confusion to a frown of disturbed understanding. "Oh…"

On the papers before the doctor, he saw that the beginning of every word, when put together, spelled out a phrase.

"Screw you" was written out four times where Tony had circled the letters from each of her answers.

Emmie smiled again as both men gave her hard looks. "Problem, gentlemen?" she asked sweetly.

"Holy crap, that's creepy," Tony muttered under his breath, staring at the girl. "Think we've had enough for today, doctor?" he tore his gaze away from Emmie. "We did the tests… let's get out of here."

Banner nodded in agreement and stood up. "We'll tell Coleson we're done here, and he can take her back to her room."

"Yeesh…" Tony shook his head as he picked up the clipboard. "Can't wait to see what Fury and Hill have to say about this." He paused when he saw Emmie's eyes flash at the mention of Agent Hill. "Got a problem with Agent Hill, Little Miss Hill Junior?"

Emmie glared at him. "Screw you," she whispered.

"Yeah, you've already told us four different ways," Stark muttered, gesturing to his clipboard. "I think you've got that pretty well covered. Anything else you'd like to tell us before we leave?"

"Yeah," Emmie muttered. "Tell SHIELD they need to get better handcuffs." She held up her hands, which weren't clasped in handcuffs, like they had thought.

Banner and Stark exchanged shocked looks.

"I thought you were chained up," Tony muttered, backing away from the girl.

"That is because you are stupid," Emmie smirked. She waved in farewell as the two men left the room hurriedly, eager to be away from the creepy teenager. She heard the lock click into place behind them. She turned her waving hand around and flipped her middle finger. She sighed. That was boring. And too easy. She kind of wanted Coleson to take her back to her room now. Maybe Loki would visit her again. And that would be… interesting.

**Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: Wah ha ha! Okay, that was kind of fun to write… That was like this story's version of a comic relief chapter. God, I'm more messed up than I thought. You know how hard it is to make a sentence that makes the acronym "Screw you?" The last one Emmie made up really sucked… but the first two were kind of funny, I think. :P**

**Someone commented that Emmie is kind of like Clove from Hunger Games… I think she's a little bit like Clove, yeah. Also, if you've seen Demolition Man, she kind of reminds me of Simon Phoenix, just because of the way she enjoys wreaking havoc. Though Emmie enjoys herself more quietly.**

**Normally I love writing Tony Stark… but it's harder to write a good Stark scene with Emmie in the picture. Felt like I didn't do the great Tony Stark justice… Check out my fanfic Battle of Wits if you want some good Stark humor. It's another fanfiction I have half-written… kind of on hiatus now, but I feel like advertising it anyway. I'll finish it sometime. :P Anyways. Heh hem. I think we'll go back to Emmie and Loki next chapter. ;)**

**Leave me a review or PM me… please? Also, favorite and follow, purdy please ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

Artificial Sweetness

Loki gave it sufficient time before deciding it would be safe to go back to Emmie's cell/room. He had sensed someone outside her door and knew they had been there for Emmie. He had reappeared back in his cell and then waited, knowing the time would come when he could sneak back into Emmie's room and… and what?

He wished he had given this a little more thought. It was easy to decide what to do when it came to Bruce Banner. That was simple enough. But when it came to Emmie, it was different. She may be mad, malicious, and murderous. But she was still an intelligent young girl. And if his aim was to turn her to his side, the best option was to trick her into coming willingly. And how to do that? What was the best way to make a young woman want to come with a man willingly?

Perhaps… He smirked. he glanced up at the camera mounted in the corner of his cell. Once again, this would only take a moment. Someone watching the camera would miss it if they looked away for more than two seconds. He conjured an illusion of himself and transported himself outside of the cell. He checked that the illusion was in place, then strode away to where he now knew Emmie's room was. Loki carefully leaned against the door and listened for any movement. Emmie should probably be back by now, but there was no way to tell for sure. There was no noise coming from within the room.

He hesitated for a moment. If she wasn't back yet, he could simply wait. He pushed open the door but didn't step in right away. He didn't see her immediately within his line of vision. He hesitated again, then took a step into the room.

Something slammed into him from the left side, knocking him sprawling on the ground. He lost all orientation of where he was as something hit him hard in the ribs, making him roll. He felt something sharp dig into his collarbone, felt something leaning over him. Maliciously mischievous green eyes met his startled blue.

"Oh," Emmie said lightly. "It's you." She straightened and stepped back, the dagger he had given her idly twirling between her fingers.

Loki was still half-stunned from the speed and ferocity of her stealthy attack. He slowly sat up. "What was that for?" he asked as he stood.

Emmie thought about how to answer. Lying, she decided. "I thought it might be Coulson again, coming to get me for another therapy session. Thought I might be, uh, attacking one of my captors, as it were," she said airily.

Loki narrowed his eyes. "Liar. You knew it was me. You're not so stupid that you don't look before you attack."

Emmie's hateful eyes sparkled as she smirked. "Maybe I just wanted to get back at you." She flipped her mouse brown hair over her narrow shoulders. "Well, I also kind of figured you wouldn't necessarily need to use the door. What with you… disappearing and all, earlier." She gave him a calculating look, raising her eyebrows in question.

"Straight to the point, aren't you?" Loki asked.

Emmie shrugged. "Well, you did kind of…" She flexed her left hand meaningfully. "And…" She held up the dagger in her hand. "Plus the whole…" she couldn't think of a gesture. "Disappearing out of the room before Coulson came in."

Loki shrugged in return.

Emmie stepped a little closer, trying to figure this guy out. "What was that all about?" she asked quietly, wanting to get as much information out of him as possible.

Loki considered. He might as well start his own act now, since this girl so obviously liked putting on her own acts. "You interest me, Emmie," he said softly, a slightly self-conscious smile gracing his lips.

Emmie frowned at his reply. That was… weird. But if she interested him, she could roll with that. She could play along. Of course, the whole 'slowly becoming drawn to him in return' would be a hard angle to play. But she was sure she could pull it off if that was what was required. She was nothing if not an actress. Well, a Mastermind Murderess, too.

Loki saw her stiffen slightly at his words as they sank in. He saw something in her eyes like confusion. Then she frowned slightly and turned away. "Yeah, right," she muttered, sounding slightly depressed.

Loki waited. Perhaps being 'interested in her' wouldn't work as well as he had hoped. But perhaps he could still make it work. If he could get her to believe he was truly interested in her, it would make a lovely excuse for her to come with him when he escaped this Helicarrier. "You don't believe me?" he asked.

Emmie wondered exactly how to answer. She didn't want to be too obviously acting this all out. But she didn't want to push him away too soon that he would stop… whatever he was doing. Being interested in her. She scoffed quietly "No one's 'interested in me,'" she muttered, not meeting Loki's eyes.

Loki wanted to smirk and agree with her statement. He wanted to quit feigning interest in the girl, but she seemed to be insecure and hurt inside. Those were the kind of people easiest to manipulate. She hadn't struck him as the insecure, moody, self-deprecating girl he saw now, but looks could be deceiving, as he was well aware. If she was truly as much of an angsty mortal teen as she now appeared to be, then she would be easy to manipulate. He would continue with the charade for now.

Emmie crossed the room and sat on her bed, not looking up to meet Loki's eyes. "Why'd you come back?" she sighed, pretending that Loki's words had somehow depressed her. This was simply just a new challenge. Another pretending game. Pretending to be vulnerable and insecure for him. She wasn't entirely sure what she would get out of it, but she was sure that having him on her side would be useful.

Loki wondered what he should do. Go and comfort her? Or would that be too… obvious? No, he should probably go with something subtler. He should probably still retain the arrogance and teasing countenance he had shown her earlier. That way, she would believe it more. That way, he wasn't too much out of character. "I came back because I wanted to. Do I need another reason?" he asked haughtily, inserting a slightly defensive tone into his voice.

Emmie glanced up, giving him a slightly accusing look through the feigned hurt she was showing. "What do you even want from me?"

Loki decided not to be too straightforward with his act. He wouldn't say anything too stupidly romantic. Emmie wouldn't believe him, anyway, he was sure. It was too soon for that. It would take time to fabricate affection for her. But he had time. "Nothing," he muttered, knowing that the defensive tone and lack of thought put into the answer would pique her curiosity.

Emmie frowned slightly. What was Loki trying to pull here, anyway? Was there seriously any way he was interested in her? And why? Naturally, she didn't return such feelings, nor did she plan on ever returning such feelings. But she was deeply curious as to what Loki wanted from her. If he was seriously some version of the Joker looking for his own Harley Quinn, then Emmie didn't think she would be the fit. But she could pretend that she could be. She could play hard-to-get, then play some shy schoolgirl, then maybe head-over-heels in love, and then she could stab him in the back when the time was right for her to do so. Probably after she got him to kill half of SHIELD or something. But she would see. Emmie put on a face of dubiety and looked at Loki. She pretended to look conflicted for a moment, then shrugged and brought her knees up to her chest.

Loki smiled slightly, pleased by Emmie's reactions to his words. She seemed to be believing him. Now… how was he supposed to get her to truly trust him and want to follow him to the (quite literal) ends of the Earth? How were you supposed to talk to a murderous, insecure teenage girl and get her to like you? How was he supposed to start a conversation with her?

Emmie wondered if she should be the one talking now. Should she feign some kind of returned interest now? Probably not yet. Maybe she should start with something simple. Just get him talking and find out more about him. "So you're the one who stole the Tesseract," she said simply. This seemed like it might be a good topic of conversation. He could do most of the talking, and she could pretend to be hanging onto his every word.

Loki blinked in surprise when Emmie was the one who spoke first. Perhaps this would be even easier than he thought. The girl seemed to be eager enough to get closer to him. He slowly nodded. "That's right. I stole the Tesseract."

"What do you want with it?" Emmie asked. This was an honest question, a question she seriously wanted the answer to. Still, she said it with a more innocent curiosity than she truly felt. She was still acting.

Loki wanted to snap that it was none of her business. But pushing her away would only make her dislike him, probably. He didn't want that. Then he would have no chance of gaining her trust and her favor. Yet he still didn't particularly feel like sharing his plan with this manipulative, cunning girl. He threw her a sly smile, hoping a bit of cockiness was alright. "I have my plans."

Emmie felt like rolling her eyes. He thought he was funny, apparently. But she supposed finding him funny was a good way to make him more 'interested in her.' She cracked a slight smile. "Uh huh. You have your plans." She slowly let her smile slip away as she pretended to give him a careful look, as if reevaluating her opinion of him. He looked pleased with her reaction, like he was happy he had made her smile. Oh, if only he knew that her smile was fake. If only he knew that she had no interest in being his Harley Quinn.

Loki felt proud satisfaction course through him as Emmie looked at him appraisingly, as if seeing him in a new light for the first time. It appeared he was winning her over with only a few soft words and smiles. This would be child's play, winning her over to his side. If only she knew that his soft words and smiles were feigned. He was sure she would be terribly furious and hurt when she found out. But by that time, she would have served her purpose. And by that time, she would be dispensable. But she didn't need to know that. Not yet. He would play with her for a while. Toying with her would be fun, surely.

"So your hand is better now?" he asked, pretending to come back to himself after being lost in thought.

Emmie flexed her left hand and glanced at the unblemished palm. "Yeah… how'd you do that, anyway? Same way you managed to disappear into thin air and pull a dagger out of nowhere, I suppose?" she asked.

Loki grimaced inwardly. She kept asking questions he didn't feel like answering. He wasn't willing to part with his secrets. "Yes, I suppose you could say that," he murmured. "It takes a lot of training and skill to be able to do it."

Emmie glanced up. "Can anyone do it?" She wondered if she would be able to do this stuff. It would be beyond helpful. The uses she could think of for the ability of pulling daggers out of thin air, and disappearing into nothingness, and healing wounds.

Loki felt like scoffing at her bright, inquisitive expression. He wanted to snidely tell her that she was being a fool if she thought she could do magic. He wanted to tell her that she was a mere mortal, and therefore wouldn't be able to wield such skill. But if he did that, he might lose any chance of gaining her trust and favor. And he couldn't have that. "Not everyone can do it," he explained. "I don't think there are any Midgardians who can do it." He had to stop himself from saying "humans" or "mortals" rather than "Midgardians." Such terms were slightly demeaning, and he didn't want her to take it the wrong way. In his opinion, even words like "Humans" or mortals" were euphemisms. People of Earth should really be called scum or something similar. But Emmie, he was sure, wouldn't appreciate his true opinion on the subject.

Emmie's eyes flicked to his. "What does Midgardian mean?" She had never heard someone say that before.

Loki tried not to roll his eyes or sigh in exasperation. He had forgotten. Few of the human scum knew that theirs was one of nine realms. What ignorant idiots. But he couldn't tell Emmie that. Even if it was true. He had to pretend that he found her ignorance endearing. He forced his lips into a soft smile. "I am… from a different world. Where I come from, your planet is called Midgard. Hence, you are Midgardian, as is the rest of your race."

Emmie stared at him, unsure if she could take him seriously. She hadn't known that. The guy was a freaking alien? Well, that explained the whole magic thing, and how he could disappear and heal her hand and all that crap. She started to second-guess her charade of slowly starting to return interest. For all she knew, he was "interested" in eating her face off or something. Who knew? She had never met an alien. "You're… from another planet?" she asked in a hushed voice. That was a little far-fetched, she thought. But who was she to tell him he was wrong? Maybe he was insane. Maybe he was making it up. But she didn't know. And she couldn't openly share her doubt.

Loki just nodded slowly, sensing her wavering confidence. Maybe that wasn't the right thing to tell her. Perhaps the fact that he wasn't human was off-putting. Perhaps feigning interest wouldn't work now.

Emmie wondered if a little bit of her true feelings showing through would be too much. But if she kept being _too _accepting, he might suspect her ruse. So perhaps a little bit of skepticism would be allowed. "Where are you from, Uranus?" she asked, slight disdain and sarcasm coloring her tone.

Loki felt frustration spark through him. He should have known Emmie was a lost cause. He should have known this plan wouldn't work. Pretending to have feelings for her would never work. She never felt anything but disdain and anger and hatred.

Emmie saw irritation in Loki's eyes, and she glanced away, pretending to feel remorse. Pretending she didn't want to make him mad.

Hope flickered in Loki as he saw her glance away, looking sorry. Maybe it was just her malicious nature preventing her from feeling. She looked like she hadn't meant it… or at least that she was regretting irritating him now. He let out a sigh and crossed the room to sit next to her. He would try to make this work. He seated himself next to her and looked at her. "I grew up in a place called Asgard," he began slowly. This might be a good way for him to simply get her used to his company. He could talk for a while, and she would learn a little bit. Enough to start trusting him, perhaps.

Emmie wanted to roll her eyes and groan as Loki sat on the bed next to her. Good God, he was smitten with her, wasn't he? She wanted to shove him off the bed and plunge her—his?—dagger into his chest. But she couldn't do that. Killing him would nullify any chance of having him as an ally, which she knew would be useful. She could play along and pretend to be enjoying this, she supposed.

"There are nine realms altogether," Loki continued. "All connected by the world tree, Yggdrasil." This was idiotic. He had to explain this to a girl who was nearly an adult. Every child knew this. Humans were so ignorant and stupid. Why did he have to sink to this level of teaching a human teenager about the universe she lived in? Well, he _knew _why… but _why? _He wasn't enjoying this one bit. But Emmie's attention seemed to have been captured.

Emmie frowned, pretending to be interested. "Connected?" she repeated, hoping feigning interest would trick him into thinking she cared. So she looked at him brightly rather than driving her fist into his stomach until it touched his spine.

Loki wanted to throttle her neck. Just how stupid was she? He resisted the urge to slap her and shout that she should just do what he said or else suffer the consequences. But he couldn't do that. Having her join him willingly was the only way he would be able to control her. If he tried to force her to join him, she would resist. And he had more problems to deal with than trying to control the murderous teen. He would play with her. He would pretend to have tender feelings towards her. He was the god of trickery. He could do this. So he just nodded. "Connected," he said. He got an idea. "Here…" he reached out and took her hand in his.

Emmie felt indignation erupt inside her. How dare he touch her. She got itchy fingers, an overwhelming urge to yank her hands out of his, slap him across the face, and then proceed to strangle the living daylights out of him crossed her. But she was an actress. If anything, she could pretend. She forced herself to not resist. Her hands only twitched slightly before they remained relaxed as Loki held them.

Loki held back a sigh of irritation. He would pretend to be enjoying this. He had to. She seemed to be as her fingers flexed the tiniest bit before relaxing again.

Their eyes met briefly, and they both forced smiles, hoping they were believable enough. Both Emmie and Loki assumed the actions of the other were true, never realizing that the other was acting, though well-aware that their own were utter lies.

Loki felt nothing but contempt for the idiot girl who apparently thought he was actually interested in her. She appeared to be beginning to return the feigned interest. Good. Emmie felt nothing but indignation for the stupid man who apparently thought she was returning his interest in her. He appeared to be buying it that she was eager to become closer to him. Good.

Loki tore his blue eyes away from the girl's bright green, and he continued explaining the universe, lacing his fingers with hers as he told her how the World Tree, Yggdrasil, was set up, and of each of the nine realms.

Emmie's eyes remained fixed on Loki, pretending to hang onto his every word. She was only half-listening to his lecture on the nine realms history. She was thinking of what else she could do to make him fall for her act. She was thinking of what she might be able to do to use him. He could let her out of this room, she had no doubt. Loki began tracing shapes across her palms as he described things, hoping his light touch would be sweet or romantic or something. Emmie smiled to herself, deciding now would be a good time to make a little bit of a move. Not a big one, but enough to convince him that she was falling for him in return. She scooted a little closer to him, her eyes still fixed on him.

Loki paused as Emmie shifted and slid a little closer to him. He glanced up at her, distracted. She looked as if every word he said was made of gold. For the love of Odin, this was too easy. She was obviously fascinated with him. Silvertongue, indeed. Now why had no women on Asgard ever been like this. No matter. Humans were apparently just eager to fall in love. As long as Emmie believed in his feigned feelings, things would be alright.

Emmie smiled as he got distracted from saying something about Valhalla when she drew nearer. He looked at her, slight confusion on his face. She just pretended to be a little self-conscious, smiling and looking away briefly before glancing back up at him. In a near-whisper, she said. "Tell me more."

Loki wanted to roll his eyes. This was getting pathetic. Some vicious murderous girl. All you had to do was smile and hold her hand and she would be head over heels in love. Disappointing, almost. But as long as she retained her hatred and murderous nature towards others, he supposed he could deal with her being smitten with him. It wasn't like it was a bad thing to have a young woman mooning all over you. He gave her a small smile and continued with his tale of how Valhalla came to be, gently brushing his thumb over the back of her hand as she smiled.

Both were somehow irritated and pleased at the same time. Irritated that they had to sink to the level of imitating puppy love. But pleased because the other seemed to be buying it.

**Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: Wow… is it just me, or is this a totally original, dizzyingly complex, bizarre idea? Almost ridiculing cliché Loki x OC fanfics… Weird… this is the strangest thing I have written… ever… probably… Hmm. anyways. So Emmie and Loki are now both faking their adoration for each other, both thinking that the other isn't acting. But at the same time, they just want to slaughter each other because they think their lovey-dovey actions are as irritating as hell… Gah, you guys read the chapter, I guess I really don't need to be explaining it… Anywho, I think there will be another chapter of their pretending to be all head-over-heels for each other, following this. We shall see. I haven't even finished writing the next chapter.**

**Okay, I lied about not continuing to talk about the content of this chapter…. I would also like to tell you something… If you take out all Emmie and Loki's inner thoughts and feelings, and just take all the dialogue and outer actions, this chapter is like a really cheesy, crappy cliché love scene. I know… But that's the way this chapter was designed. Cheesy on the outside, complete irritation, exasperation, and manipulation on the inside. Odd. :P**

**Please favorite, follow, and review or PM me. **


	8. Chapter 8

Deceptive Affection

Fifteen minutes… Twenty… Thirty…

Loki and Emmie weren't sure how much longer they could keep this up. It was maddening. Loki faked smiles, forcing artificially awkward compliments and deceptively caring comments and stories. Emmie pretended self-conscious giggles and feigned clumsily bashful flirting. It was infuriating them both. But Emmie was still convinced that Loki was smitten with her, and Loki was convinced that Emmie was head over heels in love with his attentions. Both were sorely mistaken, but they hadn't realized that yet. They had talked about the nine realms for some time, Loki gritting his teeth as he had to explain the simplest things to the girl, like the Byfrost. Emmie lied through her teeth and pretended to be fascinated with his stories.

And somehow the conversation turned to them personally.

"So… you're Asgardian?" Emmie asked, feigning adoration as she looked at Loki.

He stiffened slightly. He should have known this would come up soon. He glanced down at her bright face and stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, which was still clasped in his, much to his displeasure. "No, I'm not Asgardian."

Emmie waited, wondering just how complicated this guy was, and if he would ever leave her room. Naturally, if he started to leave, she would have to beg him to stay, just to keep her act going. But there was a delicate balance to keep. She would have to ask him to stay, and then hope he would still refuse. And then she would moan and groan, as if she really was trying to convince him to stay. That was the hard part about acting. Pretending to want something you didn't… and then dealing with the consequences of if you actually got what you pretended to want, which you really didn't. She could deal with it, though.

Loki considered telling her what he really was. What was the point? Perhaps him being open with her would be attractive. Sharing your history, not keeping secrets. That was supposed to be desirable, wasn't it? But Loki wasn't open to the idea of sharing his story with Emmie. She put him on edge. She was… in love with him, he was sure. At least infatuated with him. He didn't quite like it as much as he thought he would. She was, to put it bluntly, creepy. She had tried to kill him only an hour and a half before, yet was now mooning over him like a shy schoolgirl. How could she have such drastic mood swings? No matter. He had to keep this up. "I'm not Asgardian… I am from Jotunheim."

Emmie raised an eyebrow, looking inquisitive. _That _was new. "Didn't you say Jotunheim was where frost giants were from?" she asked.

Loki nodded. "I am a frost giant."

Emmie frowned slightly, but tried not to show her inner confusion. What the hell was he going on about now? "But you said you grew up in Asgard. And Asgard and Jotunheim are enemies, I thought you said."

Loki resisted the urge to crush her neck in his hand. He didn't want to talk about this. "They are enemies," he muttered.

Emmie looked at him carefully. He was… on edge. This was a delicate subject, obviously. Something to manipulate. Something to tuck into her pocket and use later, once this charade was over. And she couldn't wait until the moment when she could slip her hand out of Loki's grasp and punch him. Insolent man, thinking he was entitled to be near her. She hid an inner smirk. She was even starting to sound like him. Weird.

"Do you really want to hear this?" Loki asked irritably. He knew this was going to be a key point in feigning affection: appearing to give his secrets, feelings, and heart to her. Appearing to trust her with his story. But he really didn't like this.

Emmie hesitated. She was dying to know, really. But insisting, pushing him into an uncomfortable state, would have a negative effect. Possibly make him dislike her. And that would mean he wouldn't do anything she said. That would mean she couldn't use him. And that wasn't what she wanted. She let out a small sigh and shook her head. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Loki," she murmured, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Loki grimaced inwardly. What a little _darling_. Thinking of his feelings over her own curiosity. He _hated _her beyond belief. Why'd she have to be so damn _perfect? _By telling him he didn't have to tell her, he felt more sure that he really should tell her; just to outdo her own caring for his feelings. If she cared about his feelings enough to not push a subject he found hard, then he would have to show that _her _curiosity meant more to him than his own feelings of uncomfortableness. What a little beast. "I'll tell you if you want to know," he murmured.

Emmie felt irritation flash through her. That bastard. He was outdoing her act of adoration. Putting his feelings aside to sate her curiosity put more pressure on her to outdo his affections. "You don't have to."

Loki forced a smile. "I think you should know about me, don't you?"

Emmie bit back a groan of exasperation. Good God, he was dying to share his secrets with her. Could this get any more cheesy? "But… I don't want to bring back… bad memories or anything," she muttered.

"I think of these memories whether I tell you of them or not," Loki sighed. Irritating little demon. She was too sympathetic. He didn't like how she was being so caring. He wasn't sure he liked being smothered by her affections. But this appeared to be working so far: tricking her into thinking he loved her. So he would keep it up. "I'll tell you."

Emmie just nodded, finally giving in. She would hear his story. She really wanted to, anyway.

Loki sighed. "I found out that I was adopted by the king of Asgard when I was an infant. I found out that I am the son of the king of Jotunheim. And I was… rather upset," he said lightly, biting back anger and frustration at the memories.

Emmie wanted to shoot retorts and insults at him. He had just given her ammunition. Weapons to use against him later. But he thought he was simply giving her his secrets so that she could understand him. And now she did understand him better. She understood how to get to him more easily. She filed the information away in her brain and held her inner feelings in, knowing that pretending sympathy was what she was now supposed to be doing. She gently squeezed his hand and cast her gaze downward. "I'm guessing that was… hard," she murmured.

Loki simply nodded. "Mmhmm."

"So what did you do?" Emmie inquired, hoping to get more secrets out of him.

Loki considered not telling her. But he was supposed to be pouring his heart out to her right now. Damn this stupid charade. But he couldn't stop in the middle of it. "I… I killed my biological father, Laufey, in order to prove to my adopted father, Odin, that I was worthy of being his son. And then… I attempted to destroy the realm of Jotunheim."

"Why?" Emmie whispered, slightly startled by this confession.

"Because the frost giants are monsters."

"But you're—"

"That doesn't mean I have to like it," Loki cut her off sharply, his blue eyes flashing warningly. "You think I take pride in my heritage? You think that's why I continue to keep the visage of an Asgardian, despite the fact that I now have control over my Jotun form?" he hissed angrily.

Emmie raised her eyebrows slightly, looking at Loki with guarded interest. Then she remembered that Loki snapping at her should probably have hurt her. She knit her brows in a frown and pinched her lips. "Loki, I didn't mean to… to…"

Loki realized his mask of adoration had slipped. He had let his anger show for a moment. But Emmie, for a moment, hadn't been as adoring or affectionate. As soon as he started losing his temper, she had lost her warm demeanor. For a moment, she had been… cold, distant, shrewd, and calculating. Just for a moment. And now she was back to the weak, vulnerable girl. Loki felt suspicion course through him. That little beast.

Emmie turned slightly away. She could pretend to be truly hurt by his impatience. She forced wetness to her eyes. "Loki, I'm sorry… I didn't realize you were so…" The girl didn't look up to meet Loki's eyes, so she didn't see the angry comprehension on his face as he gave her a careful look.

He decided to manipulate her further. Like an idiot, he had given her vital information about himself. If he could now use their charade of romance to his advantage now, then he could extract information out of her in return. So he resisted the urge to slap her across the face right now. He knew she was acting. But she didn't know he knew that. And she didn't know _he _was acting, too. Loki carefully wrapped an arm around her small shoulders. "I'm sorry, Emmie," he murmured, irritation pulsing through him. He didn't like this feigned affection. It made him act… vulnerable. And sorry. And caring. Three things he was most definitely not.

Emmie resisted the urge to shake his arm away. She instead leaned against him, as if his touch was reassuring.

Loki marveled at her acting skills. It was almost believable. Almost. Emmie leaned against him as if it were the most natural thing in the world to her. And it was, perhaps, her _perfection _at playing this role that served to irritate Loki the most. If she truly had tender feelings of affection, she would have been more tentative. She would have been more nervous. Perhaps Emmie was overacting. But as long as she still played their little game, as long as they both kept up the pretense of love, then Loki could tolerate this. Maybe. He still had to act far more vulnerable and caring than he liked. Now he would have to turn this conversation around so that she would be obliged to spill her secrets to him. Loki considered for a moment how to do this.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," he murmured, gently squeezing her shoulder. "There are simply… things in my past that trouble me. It seems that no one can understand that." He smirked as he felt Emmie stiffen slightly in his arms.

Emmie froze at Loki's words. _Crap! _Her mind screamed, panicked. Now it was her turn. This was the part in her act where she was supposed to comfort Loki and tell him that she did understand. And then she was supposed to give examples of her own past that had been difficult. Her mind raced. Was this worth it? To tell him anything about herself? She couldn't back off from her deception now, though. She was too far into it to let up her foot on the gas pedal. "I… I know what it's like to not know who you are anymore," she whispered, hating the words falling from her mouth. They weren't truly her words, she told herself. They were the words of a girl who was infatuated with Loki. Her mouth was simply a vessel for that girl's lines.

Loki wanted to laugh. She was so uncomfortable, he could tell now. Now that he knew she was acting, he could see that she forced her acts. She thought over every word carefully before speaking it. And now he could simply listen to her sob story and use it against her later. On the outside, though, he showed none of his true feelings. Instead, he frowned slightly and looked down at her with feigned confusion and interest. "What… what do you mean?"

Screw this… this was the hardest con she had ever pulled off. She had to tell the truth, but tell it in a pitiful way that would make Loki believe her faked feelings about the truth. Hell, it was hard enough to _think_ about the truth with her _real_ feelings, let alone _tell _the truth with _insincere _feelings. "I… don't remember hardly anything from before… the Tesseract. I remember just before… and then I remember after… but nothing from when I was growing up."

Interesting. "Is that why you impulsively kill people? Just because you don't remember?"

Emmie wanted to stab him… repeatedly. He didn't understand. And he had no idea what she felt. How dare he question her? "No. I impulsively kill because I impulsively kill," she murmured, unsure how else to word it. She hated that she had to try to explain herself to this man. All for this stupid game of manipulation.

"Is that why you hate your mother so much?" Loki pressed, dying to get information to use against her. Ready to find something to break her.

Emmie bit the inside of her lip as she thought over the question. Truth. "I hate my mother because she's not afraid of me. She doesn't get mad or scared. She's just… sad. And I hate that. I haven't seen her in a year because I tried to kill her the last time I saw her. And I tried to kill her because she wouldn't _react. _She wouldn't get _scared _of me… and that's what I always want."

Loki thought over her words carefully and considered how to continue their game. "I'm not afraid of you, Emmie," he murmured.

Emmie tensed a little before forcing herself to relax. What an asshole. He should be scared of her. But he didn't know that she was far darker than she pretended. He didn't know that she was only pretending all of this. "Maybe you should be scared of me," Emmie murmured under her breath.

"But I'm not," he whispered into her ear, hoping his closeness would unnerve her. She had no reaction to it. Instead, she turned and met his eyes. Inches separated them.

Emmie's eyes flicked between Loki's lips and his eyes, wondering… should she…?

Loki stared at her, not quite sure. If they really were in love, this would be the part where they kissed. But this wasn't real. He felt nothing but disdain and contempt for her. And he knew that she felt nothing but the same for him.

How much longer could they keep up their charade, they both wondered?

They both leaned in at the same time, and their lips pressed together gently. Both pretended to enjoy this. They both wondered if they should pull away now, or if that would make the kiss too short. They wondered if they should deepen the kiss, or if that would be moving too fast. They both felt… wrong. There was something off. And both of them knew it.

They pulled apart, and their eyes locked. There was a moment where both of them retained their masks of adoration and affection, but Emmie frowned slightly as she looked at Loki. There was definitely something off, but she wasn't quite sure what. Her mask fell first, and she gave Loki a cold, calculating look.

Loki's mask fell away as soon as he saw that Emmie's had, her young face hardening again into a distant look of cold hatred and determination. He smirked slightly, knowing that Emmie had figured out that he had been acting.

Emmie looked at Loki carefully, putting the pieces together in her mind. He had been faking. He had been faking his feelings just as much as she had been hers. At first she couldn't believe it… but then she smirked slightly, too. She had known seeing Loki would be interesting. She just hadn't been sure to what extent.

Loki let out a scoff as he saw Emmie finally figure it all out. He could see it in her eyes. The comprehension. Loki scoffed and stood, crossing the room to lean against the wall. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the girl, who was looking at him with pure hatred. "I suppose this means we can drop the charade now?"

**Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: Okey then. This chapter is shorter than the others I've posted, but I want the next part to be in the next chapter. So… yeah. Heh, heh. They both finally figured it out, and Loki figured it first. And now they both have metaphoric daggers to twist in each other's sides. We shall see what happens in the next chapter. ;) This chapter was really an odd one… I do a lot of thinking about… weird stuff. Obligations of everyday society's conversations. Like saying it's okay that you don't get something is really an invitation for the other person to give you what you claim you don't mind if you don't get. I don't know if that makes the least bit of sense to anyone else besides me… Heh maybe I'm more insane than I thought I was. Kind of a reverse psychology type of thing. :P Anywho. I was originally going to have a scene with adding a little more mystery to Emmie's condition, but I'm not sure exactly what that's going to lead up to… If you would like to make suggestions, or would like to help me refine my ideas, I would love for someone to PM me and offer a little help… I'm not sure how this is all going to end yet… *guilty smile* **

**So I watched the movie Maleficent and thought it was awesome how Maleficent always calls Aurora a beast… It appears Loki has now taken to calling Emmie a beast (among other things ha ha). **

**Please favorite, follow, and review and/or PM me. Seriously. Not kidding. You are allowed to ask questions or make comments. Even if you want to tell me that this story sucks for some reason. I'd be happy to have a heated debate with you on the subject. **


	9. Chapter 9

Metaphoric Daggers

"I suppose this means we can drop the charade now?" Loki asked coolly.

Emmie let out a disbelieving breath. "I suppose so." She gave him a hard look, rather impressed. He had had her fooled. She was impressed. But also rather… _peeved, _to put it lightly. "You're an asshole."

Loki rolled his eyes. "I don't think I'm the only one, Maria. At what point, exactly, did you start acting?"

Emmie considered. "Same moment you did, I'm guessing… when you claimed '_interest in me_,'" she said mockingly, adopting an accent and curling her fingers into air quotes.

Loki smirked. "Yes, naturally that was the point at which _I _started acting. You didn't actually think I felt anything for you, did you, Maria?"

Emmie felt sparks of anger. "You didn't actually think I felt anything for you, did you, Loki?" she shot back. "And didn't I tell you not to call me Maria?"

"You think I give a damn about anything you say?" Loki asked derisively.

"I would guess you would care if I said something about Jotunheim, wouldn't you?" Emmie taunted quietly.

Loki's eyes flashed angrily. "Just like I suppose you would care if I said something about your mother, yes?"

Angry silence for a moment.

"I think I preferred you faking being sweet on me," Emmie growled.

"Naturally you preferred that," Loki sneered. "I'm sure you rather _enjoyed _that kiss." He knew she hadn't. He knew she had been just as irritated to be feigning infatuation as he had. But he still wanted to taunt this girl as much as possible.

"Yeah, I was just _thrilled_," Emmie drawled. "Always wanted my first kiss to be with a _frost giant_," she stressed the last two words, making sure they made their impact.

Loki bit back a snarl at her taunt. Then he smirked as he repeated her words to himself. "Your _first_ kiss, Mastermind?"

Emmie flushed and glared at him. "First I can recall, since I _can't remember _before!" she spat. "Not a very _good _first kiss, either," she said bitterly, though she wasn't sure if that was even true. She had been too busy trying to make things from her side of the kiss seem believable to try to enjoy the kiss in the least. Emmie glared daggers at him, considering whether or not she should throw the real one that still lay on her bed.

Loki gave Emmie a careful look. Had that really been her first kiss? He almost wanted to sneer and make some retort that that explained a lot… but he wasn't sure that would be right. Even if Emmie had had her first kiss before the Tesseract changed her, this was her first kiss to her now. A girl's first kiss was something they always thought was a momentous event. Emmie's had been one of deception. Oddly fitting for the devious girl. Almost enough to make him feel guilty for making her first kiss be a travesty. Almost. Not quite.

"Well, this is incredibly… awkward," he muttered. "It appears we've reached a kind of stalemate. I tricked you, and you tricked me." He really didn't like the idea of being tricked by this girl. It unnerved him to realize that, for half of an hour, he had fallen for her act. Naturally, she had also fallen for his. But still, her actions in return to his act were an act of her own. They had fallen for each other's act. And he didn't like the idea of falling for anything. "What say you we forget about this whole… incident?" he suggested.

Emmie glared at him. "You mean our whole little romance?" she asked scathingly. "You mean the whole thing where you were playing me, because you thought I was some little innocent, shy, kid?"

Loki considered. "Yes."

Emmie glared. "Well, I'm not some little shy, innocent kid."

"I gathered as much." Though he knew that in a sense, she was. She may be evil and manipulative. But she was still young and inexperienced. She had just barely had her first kiss.

Emmie was quiet for a moment. "What, you don't want me to keep bringing up the fact that you were holding my hand and smiling and being sweet and caring and that you _kissed _me?" Emmie asked, mock innocence in her voice.

Loki's jaw clenched. "You can bring it up whenever the hell you want. I thought _you_ wouldn't want _me_ bringing up _your _shameful flirting and tears and smiles and darling fidgeting and leaning closer to me and the fact that you gave me your first kiss," he said in a low voice, turning her teasing back around on her easily.

Emmie bit her lip. "Fine. I'll never speak of this again if you don't. We'll just forget this," she vaguely gestured between herself and him, "ever happened." Emmie didn't meet his eyes. She wasn't a romantic person, obviously. She shouldn't give a damn that her first kiss had been to this guy. And she didn't, really… but it was still kind of embarrassing to realize that he hadn't even had the slightest feelings for her. There had been no love on either side of the kiss. And that was kind of… sad, actually. But she pushed the thought away quickly.

Loki slowly nodded, hating the fact that he was making a deal with the devil child.

"So let's replay our little scene. And this time, let's be honest, shall we?" Emmie suggested, raising her eyebrows.

Loki raised an eyebrow, but didn't answer.

Emmie smirked. "So… why did you come back?"

Loki's eyes scanned her face as he considered how to answer. "You want honesty, Maria?"

"I swear to God, if you call me Maria one more time, I'm going to gut you and use your entrails as streamers while I celebrate your death," Emmie spat forcefully, unsheathing the dagger he had given her.

Loki couldn't help but smirk. "Listening to you threaten me is like listening to a puppy growl and bark. It's more amusing than fear-inducing, _Maria._" He flinched as the dagger suddenly buried itself point-first two inches from his left ear. Emmie gave him a threatening glare. "Except maybe the puppy's bite is worse than its bark."

Loki just shook his head. He turned and plucked the dagger out of the wall before looking back at Emmie. "I might take you more seriously if you hadn't just thrown away your weapon, Mastermind Murderess," he said scornfully, idly twirling the dagger between his fingers.

Emmie shook her head. "Maybe I don't need a dagger to gut you. Maybe it's more enjoyable to use my fingernails instead."

"Yes, I'm sure. Let me know how that works out for you, Mastermind Murderess," he said nonchalantly.

Emmie growled. "I hate you."

Loki only grinned at her declaration. "Good. You should hate me. I hate you, too."

"_Good. You should hate me,_" Emmie repeated his words derisively.

Loki chuckled quietly, finding her banter nothing more than amusing. "Really, Emmie? That was rather immature. Are you so unoriginal and uncreative that you can't come up with your own insults? Do you simply have to mimic mine?"

"How about this? _Screw you!_" Emmie exclaimed, losing her already-short temper at the man.

"Damn you," Loki returned.

"Go to hell!"

"Only after I get the pleasure of seeing you go to the same place."

"I'm already there: I'm in the same room as you," Emmie snarled, standing up and taking a few steps closer to him. "Turns out hell's a lot colder than I thought; when your company's a _frost giant—" _

"_Shut up!_" Loki cut her off, stepping forward and shoving her hard. The girl fell backwards, wincing as she landed on the mattress of the bed. "_Shut up," _he spat again, holding himself back from using the dagger in his hands on her. He could barely keep control of himself, reminding himself that she was useful, that she was going to be helpful, that he couldn't kill her here and now.

Emmie's breath had quickened as she toppled back onto the bed, surprised by Loki's sudden actions. Their pretending game had made her forget how dangerous he was. She had almost forgotten their first encounter: ragged gashes in her hand, pinned to the floor, arm twisted behind her, and real tears. She had almost forgotten what he was capable of. She looked up at Loki, who looked like he was ready to kill her. "Shut up," he spat again. Emmie didn't want to die. But she also didn't want to let him win. She didn't want to lose this fight. "Make me," she muttered defiantly.

Loki's eyes locked with hers. He could see the fear in her eyes, but also the determination. He reminded himself that was why he couldn't kill her: the determination despite the fear. "Don't tempt me," he muttered, forcing himself to turn away.

"Giving up?" Emmie taunted, feeling triumph as Loki turned away from her, dagger still clutched in his hand.

"You're a fool, Emmie," he ground out.

"You're a jackass," Emmie returned.

"You're a chess piece."

Emmie paused, not getting it. "The hell kind of insult is that? I think there's a fine line between being unoriginal and uncreative and being overly so. That's not even a good insult," Emmie said haughtily, continuing to talk only so that she could calculate her next move. Loki was facing away from her. The dagger was in his hand. If she could catch him off guard, she could wrest the weapon out of his grip. She could jump onto his back maybe. Attacking someone from behind usually worked better. She stood slowly and silently.

"I swear on the nine realms, Emmie, if you take one step closer to me, you will find yourself on the ground, the wind knocked out of you, and probably with some broken ribs, faster than you can blink," Loki said flatly.

Emmie paused and didn't step closer. Loki turned around to face her again, cold amusement in his blue eyes. Emmie glared.

"I will give you your dagger back once you have heard me out," Loki said slowly. "You, Mastermind Murderess, are going to be my chess piece. You are nothing more than a tool in the grand game. "

Emmie narrowed her eyes. "Mmhmm. I'm listening." Kind of. More like half listening while trying to find a way to catch him off guard and get that dagger back. She really shouldn't have thrown it at him to get her point across. She should've just buried it in his sternum right then and there rather than merely threatening him.

"Tell me, what do you think of being a worm on a hook?" Loki asked, delicately turning the blade between his fingers as a reminder that he was the one with the weapon.

Emmie frowned. "Bait, you mean."

"That's the general idea, yes."

"I'm thinking that things don't always turn out too well for the worm when you're fishing," Emmie said slowly, her eyes still fixed on the dagger. "Who are you trying to bait, anyway?"

"Director Fury's rag-tag team of outcasts," Loki said, now clasping his hands together behind his back so that the dagger was no longer in the girl's calculating view. Her eyes flicked up to meet his.

"And why would you need to bait them? Aren't they already here? If you're wandering free on the Helicarrier, how about you just take them now?"

Loki smirked. "Naïve, aren't you? I have no plans to defeat them myself. I'll be making my way to New York soon. And there I'll have some… _friends _take care of them."

Emmie frowned. "Mm. And you plan to take me to New York to draw them into the line of fire of your _friends_?"

Loki nodded.

Emmie wrinkled her nose. "Meh. Don't think so."

His eyes flashed.

"I fail to see any incentive for me to join you, Loki. I don't think I'll come with you to New York. Never really wanted to go. Too crowded and dirty," Emmie said nonchalantly. "I've heard you out. Now give me the dagger."

"Don't think I will," Loki murmured, looking at the girl coldly.

"You said you'd give it back. Going back on your word, Loki?" Emmie asked.

"I'm the god of lies, girl. You really shouldn't be surprised if I lie to you."

Emmie's eyes shot him a wrathful glare. "And yet somehow you're _confused _as to how I don't want to join you in your little conquest?"

"I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation, Emmie."

"I understand more than you think I do," Emmie murmured. How she hated when people thought she was a child. A stupid girl who simply was a mindless killer. She wasn't. And she hated that she had to prove that over and over. "I understand that you stole the Tesseract to further your plans, whatever they are. And you're putting that plan into effect in New York. There's going to be some kind of… ambush or something. And you want me to be the one to lure them into that ambush."

"Mostly correct, but not entirely. I'm already putting my plan into effect. New York is just the final stage."

Emmie scoffed. "Already putting your plan into effect? You're kind of on the Helicarrier, and while you may not be imprisoned, you're not getting anything accomplished."

Loki laughed softly. "You still don't understand. I'm not imprisoned. I never was imprisoned. I allowed myself to get captured by those SHIELD agents so that they may take me to you. You and Dr. Bruce Banner."

Emmie frowned slightly. "Dr. Bruce Banner? You mean that nerdy-looking guy? The shrink? What's he got to do with anything?"

Loki frowned slightly. Evidently she had already met him. "That man is merely a monster in disguise. A bit like you, but on a far larger scale."

Emmie scoffed. "Please. Him?"

Loki nodded. "How do you know of him?"

"When Coulson took me after…" Emmie trailed off and flexed her left hand meaningfully, referring to their first meeting. "He took me to a room where two men talked to me and tried to get me to spill some kind of information that would get them to be able to cure me. They conducted some stupid tests. Dr. Banner was one of the two men."

Loki smirked, somewhat amused by the thought of Emmie being interviewed for psychological information. "What did you do?"

"Gave them a little hidden message to try to provoke them, so that they would see that I wasn't as innocent as I looked," the girl said, a slightly smug edge to her sweet voice.

Loki's eyes lit up with alarm. "You tried to _provoke _him?"

Emmie blinked. "Yeah. Why is that such a bad thing? How is he like me?"

Loki shook his head, a bit shocked at the idea that Emmie could have unleashed the Hulk. Then his whole plan would have gone out the metaphoric window. "When Dr. Bruce Banner gets enraged, he turns into a monster. A giant green monster that is virtually indestructible."

Emmie stared at the god in front of her. Then she smirked to herself. "Damn. Should've used 'damn you to hell' rather than 'screw you.' I might have been able to see the giant green monster."

Loki frowned. "He will be unleashed soon enough. It's only a matter of time. Until then, however—"

"You're going to try to convince me to come with you to New York?" Emmie finished. "I still fail to see incentive for me to join you."

"Would you rather be locked in here?"

"As opposed to…?"

"As opposed to, one, being freed, two, being given the opportunity to wreak havoc on this ship, and three, learning why the Tesseract had its… _effect_… on you," Loki said lightly. "But if you'd rather just be locked in here, then I'll just—" as he spoke, he had been backing away towards the door. Emmie suddenly launched herself at him, slamming into his chest with such force and speed that he stumbled back slightly. His back hit the wall, and he instinctively held his right hand, holding the dagger, up in the air, so that Emmie wouldn't be able to get the weapon.

But Emmie had no interest in the dagger at the moment. She was more interested in the metaphoric dagger that had cut her deep just now. "_You know?_" she hissed, glaring murderously at Loki. "_You know how this happened?_" She stood mere inches from the man, bringing her face as level with his as it could get. She met his eyes with a burning ferocity, daring him to say that he had lied once again.

Loki nodded. "I know."

Emmie gave him a hard look. "How do I know you're not lying, _god of trickery_?" she demanded.

Loki smirked, still not in the least threatened by the small woman. She had no chance of physically overpowering him. " I suppose you're simply going to have to trust me, _Mastermind Murderess_," he whispered.

Emmie let out a growl of frustration. "I can't trust you. We both already know that. Just like you know you can't trust me."

Loki was silent a moment. He carefully put his free hand on her shoulder and pushed her back from him, forcing a little more distance between them. Loki decided he didn't like having Emmie this close to him. It was slightly unnerving.

Emmie allowed Loki to gently push her away from him, feeling something a little like despair flood her. He must be lying. She knew he wasn't trustworthy. Naturally, she wasn't, either, but the promise of knowledge of her condition was… tantalizing.

Loki gave the teen a hard look, conflicted. She didn't trust him. With good reason. But he had to gain her trust somehow if he wanted to have the slightest chance of her cooperation. With a deep sigh, he held out his right hand. He flipped the dagger so that he held the small blade, and held it out for Emmie to take the handle. "You heard me out. You can have your dagger back. As promised."

Emmie gave him a hard look. "You think giving me a weapon is enough to win my trust? I thought we had already established that I wasn't an innocent, shy, naïve girl. You can't win me over with a few soft words and smiles and gifts, Loki. The girl who fell for that stuff was only an act."

"I don't require your trust. I just require your cooperation."

Emmie considered, frowning. She glanced between the hilt of the dagger and Loki's solemn face. She slowly reached up and wrapped her slender hand around the handle of the dagger. Loki didn't let go of it right away.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking that just because I give you this weapon, that you have some power. If you delude yourself that way, you'll be reminded what _real _power is," he said, words dripping with dark intent.

Emmie smirked. "Suppose that means you won't appreciate finding this dagger hilt sticking out of your back, then?"

Loki smirked in return. "Just as much as you'd appreciate me not telling you _certain information_," he said meaningfully.

Emmie grinned savagely. "I think we've reached an agreement."

**Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: I have an announcement! We now have reached twenty reviews and a thousand views on this story! :D To celebrate this momentous event, all the people who are reading this story (no matter when you are reading this, or where you are in the world) win a package of hypodermic needles and a bottle of Substance Skull! (Some imagination required. No deadly toxins or sharp objects included. Knife, gun, sharpened dresser knob, and dagger sold separately)**

**Heh heh. Sorry. So happy about that. So happy I managed to finish Chapter 9 in Algebra today tee hee. So enjoy this speedy update… I have not even begun Chapter 10 yet. Still, I'm just starting Fall Break so I may surprise myself and write a new chapter quickly. :P I like this chapter. 'Tis quite amusing to me. And for those of the readers who are now worrying that they are twisted/disturbed/psychotic for liking the story… you're not alone. :D I'm still questioning my own sanity for writing this story. Not necessarily a bad thing, I s'pose. I like it when Emmie and Loki play insult Ping-Pong. Let me know what you think of it. **

**Please favorite, follow, and review or PM me with suggestions or questions. **

***Edit: I re-uploaded this chapter with a few grammatical corrections, so if you get an alert for this story and find that there is no new chapter, that's why. Sorry if I got you excited for nothing. I'm still working on Chapter 10. Sneak Peek, though… if I continue with what I have so far written of the next chapter, it will include an encounter between Emmie and her mother. :0**

**Lol stay tuned. Still would appreciate reviews, favorites and follows.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Randomness Note: I wish to tell you of random things that vaguely have to do with the story but not really, so you can skip this if you want and get straight to the chapter… but if you wish to laugh at my ice cream-hyped randomness, go ahead. **

**You know how Emmie always flips daggers and/or hypodermic needles over and under her fingers absentmindedly? I went to a wedding reception where they had glow-sticks handed out to everyone… I ended up doing the exact same thing as Emmie, flipping the glow-stick over and under each finger. XD Oh, god, the Mastermind Murderess is getting to me more than I thought… **

**Also, I just watched **_**The Pirate Fairy **_**featuring Tom Hiddleston as a young James Hook… I'm kind of scarred for life… Yet was grinning and laughing every time he spoke… and OMG he freaking **_**sang! **_***fangirl* Do I recommend the movie? …Nah. Don't know why I bothered watching it… well, yeah, I know why… cause Netflix doesn't have any other Tom Hiddleston movies available to stream besides the **_**Avengers**_**. :P Wow I'm deeply disturbed now… **

**After I finished the Pirate Fairy, I proceeded to watch about an hour of interviews with Tom Hiddleston randomly on YouTube… I love him. He's just… awesome. And have you seen him do an impersonation of a velociraptor?! You don't get it… I have loved Jurassic Park since forever… and Hiddleston can impersonate a velociraptor? *squee* I want one. What? A Hiddleston or a raptor? Yes. Both, please. Alright, I'm going to go back to giving you people what you came here for… Behold the next chapter of Twisted Minds Think Alike. **

Mental Agony

"I think we've reached an agreement," Emmie declared, smiling deviously. Her heart still raced at the thought of finding out exactly what had happened to make her this way.

Loki smiled slightly and released his grip on the blade of the dagger. "I believe we have. You'll be accompanying me to New York then."

Emmie was inspecting the blade of the dagger, double checking that it hadn't gotten damaged after she had buried its point in the wall. "Seems like that's the plan now, right? I'll be the bait, you're the hook, and SHIELD's the fish. And in return, I get out of this room and information on my… change." She didn't meet Loki's eyes as she recounted the idea. She frowned at the dagger slightly and polished the blade with a handful of her t-shirt's hem.

"And you don't betray me. No attempted assassinations," Loki added quickly, glancing to where she was still polishing the dagger with the hem of her shirt. He couldn't help but notice that a small strip of her stomach was exposed as she ran the cloth of her shirt over the dagger's length. He quickly forced his gaze from the bare skin of her midriff back to her eyes.

Emmie's eyes met Loki's, and she smirked slightly. She had caught that. He was looking at her when her shirt was lifted a few inches. "Flattering, Loki," she purred. "But just because I gave you my first kiss doesn't mean you're getting anything else."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. I was looking at the dagger. Again, I won't tolerate assassination attempts."

Emmie looked thoughtful. She smiled. "I'd like to point out that you said you won't tolerate attempted assassinations. You said nothing about successful ones."

"You wouldn't be able to succeed in assassinating me, _Mastermind Murderess._ I'm a god," Loki scoffed, giving the teen a disdainful look.

Emmie cocked an eyebrow. "So… does that make you _immortal?_ Like, you're _never _gonna die, god of mischief and lies?"

Loki sneered at her. "I never said that. I said _you _weren't capable of killing me. It takes far more than _you _would be able to inflict to end my life."

Emmie wrinkled her nose. "Offending me is supposed to, what, _discourage _me from trying to kill you? Your logic's a little flawed there." She began flipping the dagger over and under each finger absentmindedly.

Loki smiled humorlessly. "I thought we had established that you have no power, Emmie. Or do you need a reminder of what real power is?"

Emmie rolled her eyes, exaggerating the gesture to make sure Loki noticed it. "No, I don't need a reminder what 'real power' is," she said sarcastically.

"Then you'd do well to remember that you have none."

"Then I wonder why _you're_ asking for _my _help, and not the other way around?" Emmie wondered aloud flippantly.

"You're a chess piece, Emmie," Loki reminded her. "Only a chess piece. Sometimes the king needs help from a pawn or a rook. But I can take you off the board whenever I want to, and you might not get what information you want."

Emmie's fingers paused in flipping the dagger's blade over and under each phalange. She pursed her lips and let out a hum of thought. She crossed the room and sat on the bed. "Fine. You want cooperation? I'll give it to you. Explain the plan to me."

Loki considered the girl. It was really quite surprising how desperate she was to find out what had happened in her past to create her present. Emmie, apparently, was a believer in the idea of not knowing where you're going until you know where you've been. And Loki could use that against her by holding the promise of information over her head. Her twisted little head.

Loki slowly made his way to the bed and sat to Emmie's right. He opened his mouth to begin explaining, but the girl cut him off.

"And just so you know, you don't have to hold my hand or trace shapes across my palms while you explain the plan," she said scathingly, wicked mischief glinting in her eyes.

Loki gave her a dirty look. "Hadn't we agreed to never speak of that again, Maria?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously at the sound of her full name. "This dagger's starting to look pretty inviting, Loki," she murmured, holding up the now-sheathed blade.

"So is that door," Loki smirked. "Shall I leave and not come back? Shall I not tell you what you wish to know?"

Emmie gritted her teeth, hating that Loki was right. He did have real power over her. "Whatever," she muttered mutinously, the dagger remaining sheathed in her tight grip. "New York. What's the plan?"

Loki told her as much as he dared, which wasn't much. Enemies of SHIELD were going to wreak havoc on the Helicarrier, sneaking in to provide an escape for Loki and Emmie. Emmie's job was to drop a few hints to SHIELD agents as to where they were going. And she was supposed to tempt said agents that she would need to be rescued, and that she wasn't going with Loki of her own accord. And then on to New York, and there Loki was planning to summon an army, which would overpower the Earth's defenses, leaving Loki with control over the world. And at some point, Loki was supposed to give Emmie the information she desired on her condition.

As Loki finished, Emmie gave him a thoughtful look. She had, at some point, absentmindedly begun flipping the dagger between her fingers again. "Well…" she said, biting her lip as she thought over Loki's plan.

Loki waited for her opinion., discreetly glancing at the dagger in her hand to make sure she didn't do anything with it she wasn't supposed to.

"Good plan," Emmie conceded slowly.

Loki nodded approvingly.

"Theoretically," Emmie continued.

Loki paused and frowned. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that it works as long as SHIELD takes the bait we lay out for them. And as long as your army is as _formidable _as you claim."

Loki glared at her. "You question me?" Her words put him on edge. The conversation echoed one he had had not long ago, with the Chitauri leader. He had questioned their strength as well, dubious about the ability of the army he had been promised.

Emmie saw the uneasy look in Loki's eyes. Apparently her concerns had crossed his mind as well. "I don't necessarily question _you. _I question the guy who's orchestrating all this… the one who put the scepter in your hand."

Loki went tense as the girl's words repeated in his head. In his memory, more followed. '_He who gave you ancient knowledge and new purpose when you were cast out; defeated.'_ The words _'I was a king! The rightful king of Asgard, betrayed'_ rang in his head. His own words. His hands balled into fists. "In all honesty… I question him as well."

Emmie's eyes flicked up to his in surprise.

Loki sensed her surprise at his admission, but he didn't turn to look at her, knowing she was giving him a calculating look. "Much relies on things out of our—_my _control," he muttered, quickly correcting himself. There was no 'we' or 'our' or 'us' with him and Emmie.

Emmie was, quite frankly, astonished that Loki had admitted to having some doubt in the upcoming events. It made her wonder just who it was that was orchestrating all of this. Loki was the one in control, but there was someone goading him on, who would take their spoils once Loki had done the dirty work. Much in the same way that Loki would take his own spoils once his agents, Emmie, and the Chitauri had done the dirty work. "If you question him, then why are you…" she paused and smiled wryly. "Cooperating?"

Loki's jaw clenched. "Call it symbiosis."

Emmie smirked slightly. "Interesting way to put it. Depending on each other to get benefits?"

"That's the general definition."

"What are you getting, exactly, Loki?" Emmie asked.

Loki glanced at the girl out of the corner of his eyes. "Rule. Kingship."

"And what does… _he _get?"

"The Tesseract."

Emmie frowned. "What does he want with it?"

"Not my concern. I get the Earth, and he gets the Tesseract. I have no interest in further details of the transaction." He decided to withhold the fact that failure to succeed in holding up his side of the transaction would result in… _severe_ unpleasantness for him. She didn't need to know that he _needed _to succeed. For more reasons than one. Both for his own satisfaction, and for avoidance of excruciating torture at the hands of the one who put the scepter in his hands. Emmie didn't need to know the details of that particular bit.

Emmie's eyes remained on Loki, measuring his words, countenance, and body language. He was hiding something. She just wasn't sure if it concerned her. "So… does that make our relationship symbiotic? I help you, you give me information?"

Loki grinned mischievously. "I don't know, Mastermind. You seem rather parasitic at times."

Emmie scoffed. "I wouldn't talk if I were you." She paused as she saw Loki's expression. "What?"

Loki looked irate. "Give me the dagger." Emmie's grip tightened on her weapon protectively. "_Now, Emmie!_" he snapped. The girl made no move to follow his orders. Loki growled and made a grab for the sheathed dagger.

Emmie leaned back, her grip tightening further on the dagger's hilt in alarm. "Hell, no! I'm not giving you it back just because—"

"Damn it, Emmie, _now!_" Loki demanded. He caught hold of her wrist and managed to yank the dagger and sheath out of her grip.

Emmie opened her mouth to protest as Loki got the weapon from her grip and stood from the bed. She immediately stood to lunge at him and attempt to regain control of the weapon, but Loki quickly shoved her back onto the mattress.

"Emmie, _sit down and shut up_," Loki hissed urgently.

"_What the hell are you-?!_" Emmie broke off immediately as the door to her room suddenly opened. The girl froze as if she was made of stone.

Her eyes met that of her mother. Agent Hill stepped into the room slowly, looking anxious.

"Emmie," Agent Hill murmured as she stepped into her daughter's room. She hadn't seen her daughter in nearly a year. Ever since… the incident. Now she saw her daughter, sitting on the bed in the room, looking resentful about something. The girl was alone in the room, but Hill was sure she had heard talking in the room just moments before she opened the door.

Emmie's blood ran cold at the sound of her mother speaking her name. her mind whirled. The teen stared, her eyes taking in the expression of her mother. She calculated the information gathered there quickly: Agent Maria Hill was nervous, made evident by the tenseness in her posture, but she was hopeful, obvious from the expression in her mother's eyes. And that sadness was there, too. The sadness that Emmie hated was represented by the woman's lips pressed tightly together to avoid them trembling. Emmie's hands clenched into fists, already missing the feeling of having the dagger to hold. Her eyes broke away from her mother's for a quick second. Loki was gone, as she suspected. It was just Emmie and her mother. And Emmie wasn't sure how to react. She realized her hands were shaking, and that her eyes were pricked with pain, and her vision was slightly blurry.

Loki, invisible to the mortals' eyes, stood observing in the corner. He had been so wrapped up in talking to Emmie that he hadn't sensed the agent outside the door until she was only a few feet away. He watched with raised eyebrows as Emmie's mother entered. He watched both women's expressions as they locked eyes. The mother looked worried but hopeful. The daughter looked nothing short of shocked. The teenager glanced quickly around the room, no doubt checking that Loki had disappeared. Her eyes snapped back to her mother as she uttered her name. And Loki blinked in surprise as Emmie's green eyes filled with tears.

Agent Hill took a few more steps into the room, the door swinging shut behind her as her eyes examined the girl on the bed. "Remember me?" she asked softly.

Emmie's dark heart filled with hate, but she wasn't sure if it was for her mother. She didn't speak. She found that there was a lump in her throat, though she wasn't sure why. Of course she remembered this woman. She was her mother. But Emmie couldn't remember this woman raising her before that day at SHIELD headquarters. She couldn't remember ever feeling love for this woman. But she did remember the events since the Tesseract. She remembered the way she had tried to wrap her in a hug nearly a year ago. She remembered the tears on this woman's face, and the desperate words of pleading that escaped her lips. And she also remembered the overwhelming urges that overtook her, and the anger and hatred that made her lash out violently. The woman hadn't been scared or angry all those months ago. And she didn't appear to be scared or angry now. Emmie felt her hands shake more violently, wishing she had something in them to take her inner turmoil out on. She forced herself to turn away, choosing to look at the blank wall rather than the agent. She felt something drip onto her hand. It took her a moment to realize that it was a tear. Lifting her hands to her cheeks, she was surprised to find that she was crying. She frowned at the realization. How dare this woman make her cry. She hadn't realized that the tears were even there.

Agent Hill drew even closer, looking anxiously at Emmie. Was she really crying? Or was this one of her acts? The mother was saddened to realize that she could no longer tell if her daughter was acting or not. When Emmie was younger, before the whole Tesseract fiasco, she could always tell when her daughter was pretending to show emotion or if she really was being honest with her feelings. Now… She couldn't tell. The thought made her purse her lips tighter.

Emmie could sense the woman drawing closer, and felt her sit on the very end of the bed, as far as she could be from the teenager while still sitting on the bed. Emmie slid to the opposite end and leaned against the wall, still not meeting her mother's eyes as she angrily wiped the traitorous tears from her cheeks, the only trace of emotion in the girl.

There was a long moment of silence as it seemed that the two women simply were waiting each other out, testing the other's resilience. The agent broke first.

"Director Fury said he didn't want me to come see you. He said I'd fall for your tricks or try to convince you of your previous identity," she said softly.

Emmie smiled wryly. "And you're not going to try to convince me of my previous identity?"

"No. I already know it doesn't get through to you," Agent Hill answered flatly.

"At least you finally learned that."

"Yeah."

Silence. Emmie carefully considered her mother's words.

"So you don't think I am who I was before? You finally figured it out that no amount of pleading and tears and telling me stories about when I was younger is going to work?" Emmie asked scornfully.

"Yes, I've figured it out," Agent Hill whispered, sounding like she was holding back tears.

Emmie forced herself to turn away again, feeling torn. She was feeling an overwhelming urge to hurt something. But she couldn't decide if her mother was the one she wanted to hurt. This was why she hadn't wanted to see her. She had known this would happen. Her mother confused her. She made her want to scream in frustration because no matter what Emmie did, her mother never gave her the same angry mistrustful looks other people did. Emmie wanted to be feared. Her mother didn't fear her. Emmie wanted to trick people into thinking she was innocent, only to have those beliefs ripped away as she pulled a knife or gun or baking sheet on them with a twisted grin. She enjoyed the disturbed look people got when she switched from angelic to demonic. Her mother was never surprised or disturbed. Just… sad. And Emmie couldn't be happy when she made people sad. She could be happy when she made people mad or scared. But not sad. It wasn't nearly as enjoyable. So she hated seeing her mother.

"So why are you here?" Emmie asked coldly. "If you don't think you can get me back to good, then what are you doing here?"

"Maybe I've accepted that you're not the person you used to be, Emmie, but you're still my daughter," Agent Hill whispered.

_ "I am not your daughter!" _Emmie shouted suddenly, whipping to look at the older Maria Hill.

She frowned, sadness in her eyes that made Emmie only angrier. "Then am I not your mother?" she asked quietly.

Emmie glared at her hatefully. This woman was the only one that she even hesitated to hurt. Why? Perhaps just because of the honesty she showed her. But Emmie refused to show weakness to anyone. Not even the woman who had given birth to her, and had had faith in her until now. It almost hurt Emmie to think that the person who had been so earnest now admitted to having no hope for her. "You're not," Emmie said in a low voice.

Agent Hill glanced away from her daughter, holding back the tears that stung at her eyes. What had happened to the girl she had once known? What had happened to her Emmie? The girl that had always wanted to be a scientist, who loved reading historical romances and hot chocolate, who had crawled into bed with her on nights before she had to leave for long missions? Had that girl disappeared into oblivion? Or was she still inside this girl, somewhere, hidden? She didn't know. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know: she was afraid of the possible answer. But she knew that this girl who sat on the bed, with clenched fists, set jaw, and blazing eyes was not the girl she had once known. She wasn't sure she wanted to know this girl. She was still her daughter. She was still Emmie. Just… twisted beyond recognition. And perhaps twisted beyond what could be restored. Maria Hill hoped not. But she was beginning to lose hope that she would ever see the girl she had spent blood, sweat, and tears to raise. The agent sighed and stood, forcing herself not to tremble with grief. "I thought that was what you would say," she said quietly. "I guess I was right, huh?" She strode slowly to the door and opened it. She left the room without a backwards glance. She didn't let her heartbroken sobs escape her until the heavy metal door clicked into place and she was halfway down the hall, out of sight and earshot of the girl who had once been her daughter.

So she didn't see the anguish on her daughter's face as she watched her mother go.

And Loki had watched the entire exchange, immobile and silent, and for some odd reason, feeling like maybe he shouldn't have been watching. For some unfathomable reason, he felt pity and sympathy for the girl. He had to stop himself from crossing the room and putting a comforting arm around her shoulders as he saw the desolate girl bow her head and rest her face in her hands, trying to assuage her mental agony.

**Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: Wow… you know, entering this chapter, I hadn't planned to make it so… **_**dramatic… **_**ah, well, the idea of non-drama went out the window about the time I decided I needed Emmie and Maria to have a scene… Hope your feels are thoroughly sore. I would apologize, but I wouldn't mean it. This kind of gives Loki an excuse to feel some kind of sympathy for Emmie now, anyway. By the way, as I delve more and more into Emmie's psyche, I'm finding her emotions harder and harder to describe… **_**I **_**know what I mean, but I know that Emmie's mind and emotions are a mess… if you have any questions or clarifications you'd like to make, feel free to ask (or criticize if I did a sucky job… which wouldn't be all that surprising with how complicated this little murderess is). Not entirely sure what shall happen in the next chapter, as I have not begun it yet… but I am seriously jonesing for some suggestions…? I have little planned except for two chapters that I think may end up being 12 and 13, or somewhere around that time… otherwise, this story is a half-painted easel, with plenty of room to make adjustments to the landscape. I have not yet decided what shall happen to the Mastermind Murderess by the end of the story. I'd like to hear your thoughts/opinions on it. You people could be influencing this story so strongly if you gave me opinions/suggestions… **

**Also, I need your ideas on a ship name for Emmie and Loki. Y'all can decide if you ship it or not, but I need a name for it… the best I can make up is Emoki. Not entirely sure I like it all that much. So if you have any ideas, I'd be **_**beyond **_**pleased to hear them. **

**Ooh! Almost forgot: I have two songs that I say are Emmie's theme songs… One is called "Bad Apple." It is originally in Japanese, I think, but I only know the English translation. It can be found on YouTube. It is a great song for Emmie. The second song is called "No Different" by Tonight Alive. It can also be found on YouTube if you are interested. **

**And as long as you're reading this… check out some of my other work? My one-shots get minimum response, and I'm not sure if it's because most people just think they suck or if it's just that they are often hard to find because of the fact that they aren't being updated every few days/weeks, like series are… **

**Anywho. I'll stop now. This is what happens when you write an author's note while half-asleep, half-distractedly batting at mosquitos… darn you, mosquitos. Please favorite, follow, and review this story, or I welcome private messages. **


	11. Chapter 11

Psychological Self-Torture

Emmie watched Agent Maria Hill open the door and leave without so much as a backwards glance. She could feel her heart sinking. For some reason, she felt a sinking pain in her chest, and a tingling hot-and-cold sensation crawling over her skin. She couldn't understand why her mother giving up on her could possibly hurt. Maybe it was just that she wanted someone to disappoint. Maybe having something to defy was gratifying. And if her mother didn't believe in her anymore, she was simply… free. Free of people pleading her to come to her senses and stop being murderous. Shouldn't that be a good thing? Then why did she feel emotionally drained and torn apart?

Emmie buried her face in her hands and let out a shuddering breath, trying to sort herself out. She momentarily considered crying. That was how most people let out overwhelming emotions, right? Crying? But Emmie hated crying. Hate flooded her at the idea of showing weakness and letting tears flow. She remained immobile for a moment, her face in her hands. And then she let out a single dry sob against her will.

And still Loki watched, invisible, from the corner of the room. He watched Emmie, wondering both about her and about himself. She was lost in her emotions, unable to grasp her own thoughts. Loki felt a pity for her. But also a vicious glint of satisfaction. His eyes wandered over her hunched form, wondering if they were perhaps more alike than he had known. Seeing her interact with her mother had been… poignant, and revealing. Watching Emmie's tears, Loki knew that she felt more than hate. But it also made Loki want to bring her other feelings to the surface. So that he could pity her, and hate her, and… simply to know her. He wanted to understand her pain and her hate. He both feared it and looked forward to it. After watching Emmie and Agent Hill, he had realized that perhaps he and the Mastermind Murderess were kindred spirits; rejecting the past, which now seemed a lie, and refusing the help offered. Why would you accept help from someone who didn't understand? Loki's adoptive family no longer understood. Agent Maria Hill no longer understood. Loki and Emmie were too far gone to accept help.

He allowed himself to become visible again. Emmie didn't notice, since her head was bowed and her eyes were closed. He slowly approached the bed and cautiously sat down.

Emmie froze as she felt the bed dip down with the weight of someone sitting on it. She didn't open her eyes, but she stopped trembling.

Loki watched her silently for a moment, waiting to see if she would say anything. She didn't speak. She didn't even open her eyes. It was left to him. "Well, then," he smirked slightly. "That was… interesting," he remarked simply, curious to see what Emmie's reaction would be.

Emmie's eyes flicked open, and she bristled at his words. But she wasn't able to speak. She tried to swallow, but her throat was still tight with emotion. She tried forcing herself to not show any response to the realization that Loki had been in the room the whole time, but knew she wasn't doing a very good job at it for once. She tore her gaze away, refusing to look at him. He had seen her emotions when her mother was in the room. He knew how much she hurt sometimes. He could use it against her. And she mentally berated herself for unwittingly giving him the metaphoric daggers.

Loki could see the self-loathing in her eyes as she turned away from him, obviously not wishing to discuss her mother. He almost wanted to smirk at that. Emmie was really hurting herself more than he hurt her. Loki wasn't quite sure how to react to that. It was an amusing thought to know that she was inflicting her own psychological self-torture… but Loki almost wanted to assuage the mental agony she was putting herself through. Which he shouldn't want to do.

"You were here the whole time?" Emmie asked through gritted teeth, loathing herself for not knowing.

Loki forced himself to inflict more damage on her. "You think I would miss a show like that? Honestly, it was rather… _gripping. _And don't bother saying you were simply acting. I know you weren't."

Emmie clenched her fists. "Fine. I wasn't acting. So what the hell are you going to do about it?" She challenged.

Loki blinked. What was he going to do about it? Nothing. He had just planned to tease her, to evoke even more shame and self-loathing from her. But apparently Emmie was… just… accepting. That was somewhat surprising.

Emmie grinned savagely at his blank look. "Nothing? Thought so. So you can drop the subject, Loki. You still keep deceiving yourself that I'm some pitiable little juvenile," Emmie growled. "Your stupid attempts at psychological warfare don't work on me."

"Yes, Maria, and that's why you freeze every time I say your full name?" Loki asked lightly, feeling perverse satisfaction even as she stiffened yet again when he said her name. Emmie was far more damaged than he had previously known. She did have more emotions than just hatred… they were just hidden deep below the surface, and twisted out of their proper nature. Like Loki's own. And on one hand, Loki felt a kind of self-loathing when he exploited that. But on the other hand… there was a kind of corrupt gratification he got from hurting her. There was an inexplicable mixture of pleasure and pain in emotionally hurting this girl.

Emmie threw a hateful look at him, hating herself for simply proving him right by reacting when he said her name. "Screw you," she hissed, venom plainly audible in her voice.

Loki smirked. "Damn you."

"Go to hell."

"Are we really back to this, Mastermind Murderess? Surely there's something more to be done than just bicker, shooting insults back and forth?" Loki asked disinterestedly.

Emmie smirked wickedly. "Sure. Give me the dagger back. I assure you, I'll get something done."

Loki had almost forgotten the dagger he had taken from the teenager. It was still in his hand, loosely held for safekeeping. "You're not the one who gives orders, Emmie," he said quietly, knowing that a dagger in the girl's hands now would be a serious threat.

"Give me the freaking dagger back, Loki," Emmie ground out.

Loki sneered. "I'll let you have the dagger if you can take it from my hand." He knew she would try. He knew she would fail. He knew this little challenge would remind her who the one with the power was.

Emmie's eyes became slits as she looked calculatingly at Loki. "I won't even have a chance… there's no way I can get it from you."

Loki blinked slowly. He was frankly rather surprised that she had admitted that without even trying. He had thought there would be another little fight. But evidently Emmie already understood the rules of the game. She was already submitting. And Loki both liked and disliked that idea. It was the fight in her that made her amusing. But it was submission that made her useful in his plan.

Emmie sighed shakily and looked away from him. "When do we get out of here?"

"When I say so. Why the rush?"

"Because I want to get away from my mother."

Loki considered her. "Really? It almost seemed like…"

Emmie glanced up at him, hurt in her eyes.

Loki didn't bother to finish his scathing sentence, losing his resolve to toy with her little twisted emotions. How could she do that? Just… be pitiable? She didn't want to be pitied. That much was obvious. She wanted to be feared, hated, respected and yet despised. Yet Loki almost felt… sympathy. Not quite empathy. He didn't understand her thought processes and reasons enough to feel empathy. But he did feel sympathy for her. And he hated himself for doing so.

Emmie could see the conflict in Loki's eyes as he looked at her. She was using her emotions to her advantage now… letting her sadness and anguish linger longer than she felt it. Distracting him, actually. But he didn't need to know that.

But Loki could sense that she was playing him again. Emmie wouldn't have let her guard down this long so easily. His concerned frown disappeared, replaced with a cold glare. "You're an insane little beast."

Emmie smiled. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever called me."

"And what's the worst?"

"Someone once called me a darling angel… that was pretty bad," Emmie smirked.

Loki rolled his eyes.

"What's the worst thing anyone's ever called you?" Emmie asked coolly. "Monster?"

Loki's eyes flashed in warning. "Do you really want to push your luck, girl?"

"I'm not doing anything," Emmie muttered flatly. "I'm just asking."

"You're asking things of no concern to you."

"Mmhmm. And yet you're the one taking it and making it a big deal."

"I'm not making anything a big deal!"

"Then how did you manage to turn this into an argument, Loki?"

"I haven't turned this into an argument, you wicked little beast!"

"Isn't it?"

"No!"

"Yes."

Loki glared at her, unsure as to how she had managed to get on his nerves like this, so easily getting at his weak spots. He was seething, fighting back the urge to strangle her.

Emmie could see it. She could see that she had gotten him to the breaking point. This was the point at which people either lashed out or broke down. She wondered which Loki would do. She wondered if she would live if he lashed out. Probably not. But she somehow got a corrupt gratification from angering him, along with a self-loathing for doing it to him. She knew he was twisted by the dark things that hurt him in his past. Exploiting that was… only natural, she reminded herself. "Monster?" she whispered the word, not as a declaration or observation. More as a question, asking him if that was what he was.

Loki reached forward and wrapped his hand around her small neck, anger and confusion raging through him as his grip tightened slightly. She could still breathe, but it was harder.

Emmie was less than impressed, simply giving Loki a challenging look. Her heartbeat had sped up considerably at his touch, even if it was a violent and threatening touch. But she showed no outer signs of her inner turmoil. "Do it," she dared him.

"Don't tempt me," Loki said in a low voice, squeezing her throat a little harder. There was a moment of tense silence as Loki contemplated ending the teen's life. He leaned a little closer to her and hissed. "The only reason I don't kill you right now is because you still have a part in my plan, understand me? _You are a tool. _You will never be anything more to anyone than a tool. You are a useless, weak, stupid, insolent little girl, only good for use as leverage. You would do well to remember that you live only as long as you serve a purpose, and I will enjoy killing you when that use is fulfilled."

Emmie's face remained expressionless, but her blood ran cold. Why did his words sting her? Why was it she wanted to be more than a tool? Why did she care that he thought of her as nothing but a means to an end? The thought shouldn't have bothered her. She shouldn't care that he didn't care. But somehow she did.

Loki felt guilt and revulsion flood him… for himself. And bitter resentment towards Emmie. But mostly self-loathing. He didn't want to kill Emmie. He didn't think of her as only a tool. Exactly what he did think of her as, he wasn't sure. But he knew every word he had just spoken was a lie.

But apparently Emmie believed his lie. And she didn't appear to care. And that made Loki feel ashamed. Perhaps Loki's words didn't affect her. Perhaps the thought of him not thinking of her as anything more than a tool didn't hurt her. And that thought hurt him. Loki had wanted those words to sting her. Maybe he had expected her to be disappointed that he didn't care for her in the least. But she didn't seem surprised or affected by the thought.

He let out a breath of anger and released her, standing up to go to the door. He couldn't take this anymore. Something slammed into his back, and something was wrenched out of his hand, and something sharp was pressed against his throat.

Emmie leaped after him as he stood to leave. She yanked the knife out of his grip, unsheathed it lightning-fast, and pressed it to his throat from behind.

Loki didn't move for a moment. "Really, Emmie?" he asked quietly.

"You said I could have the dagger if I could take it from your hand. Done," she whispered.

Loki let out a breath of quiet laughter. "So I did."

Emmie felt smug satisfaction course through her. But suddenly her world was flipped upside-down, and she lost her breath as her back hit the floor. The dagger was wrenched from her grasp before she could even make sense of what happened, and then she felt herself being hauled to her feet, and then her back was slammed into another hard surface. She was still trying to catch her breath when she realized that Loki had flipped her over his shoulder, taken the dagger, and then pinned her against the wall, the dagger at her own throat.

"And I thought I told you I wouldn't tolerate any attempts on my life?" he asked, his voice deadly quiet. "What did we say about real power, Emmie?" he breathed.

Emmie couldn't answer, staring up at him defiantly despite her fear. "Are we really back to this?" she mimicked Loki's words from earlier. "Do we really have nothing better to do but slam each other around the room?"

Loki smirked. "That was rather immature, Emmie. Are you so uncreative and unoriginal that you can't do anything but repeat my own words?"

Silence as Loki simply stared down at the girl, immediately feeling his anger ebb away. "Know your place, Murderess. If you were a Mastermind, you would have used your advantages to get your way instead of trying to overpower me physically. We've already established… on multiple occasions… that you're no match." He moved the dagger away from her throat and held it out, handle-first.

Emmie, thoroughly convinced, took it gingerly. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered.

"So what have you found out?" the Director asked warily, looking at Tony Stark and Bruce Banner.

"That she's a creepy psycho, like we already knew?" Stark suggested.

"Stark…"

"No, okay, well, you already know we didn't make any kind of headway using the Rorschach and word tests. But Bruce suggested we look at some of the old data you collected way back when this all first started with her."

Fury furrowed his brow. "You called me over here to tell me that you looked at the old data? All that data was inconclusive. It showed that there was nothing wrong with her."

Bruce cleared his throat. "Well, Director, that's the thing. There's nothing wrong with Emmie's brain _structurally. _She doesn't have a tumor causing this, or any kind of unknown viruses or organisms that have invaded her… But there is something _different._"

Fury narrowed his eye. "Go on."

"Well, you gave us access to all of her files… and we looked at all of the old CT scans and all… and like Bruce said, there's nothing wrong structurally. But here," Tony said, grabbing two pieces of paper and sliding them towards the Director.

Fury inspected them. They were two PET scans of a brain, showing the different areas of activity in the brain.

"The one on the left is Emmie's brain before the encounter with the Tesseract," Bruce explained. "On the right is a scan taken after."

"So what does this mean?" Fury asked.

"It means that there's too much activity in the prefrontal cortex, hypothalamus, deep brain, and limbic system. Even her corpus callosum is overactive. The kid's got violence on the brain," Tony said flatly.

Fury rolled his eye. "Isn't this to be expected, with her behavior?"

"Not necessarily," Banner said slowly. "In most people who show impulsive violent tendencies, the prefrontal cortex is damaged, and _under_active. So is the corpus callosum, usually. And while the deep brain regions are often overactive, it's never been recorded that it should be _this _active."

"So what does this all mean, doctor?" Fury asked, looking up from the PET scans to look at Banner.

"Well," Stark cut in. "The prefrontal cortex is the part that regulates decision-making and impulses. In most cases of violence, it's damaged. In Emmie, it's in perfect condition, but overly active. The corpus callosum is the part of the brain that communicates between the right and left brain. Often damaged in people overly violent, but again in perfect condition in Emmie's brain. The deep brain regions here are the ones that control aggression and fear. They're overly active in most cases of murderers or assaulters, but nowhere near Emmie's levels of activity. Also, her cerebellum is slightly overactive… which means she's more coordinated and accurate in movement, strength, and perceptions of space and depth."

"But," Banner added. "The hippocampi are _under_active."

"Which means?" Fury pressed.

"Well, the hippocampi are the memory areas of the brain. They're underactive, but not damaged. So…"

"So what does this all mean?" Fury demanded.

"We wish we could tell you. But all we know for sure is that certain parts of her brain are overactive, making her more aggressive and coordinated. But she can't remember anything before the Tesseract affected her," Bruce shrugged.

"Can it be fixed?"

Tony and Bruce exchanged glances.

**Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: God, I had such a hard time with this chapter… I have a feeling the first half of it really sucks. Sorry for that. The second half, with all the stuff about the brain, was based on research I conducted online at 6:30 in the morning. Credit goes to Wikipedia for information on the hippocampi and motor coordination… credit for information on brain function in people with violent tendencies goes to an article online by Judy Foreman. The information about Emmie herself is purely my imagination… an overactive cerebellum, corpus callosum, hypothalamus, and underactive hippocampi would probably kill you. Just a guess. I just figured this works for my story to explain Emmie's behavior. **

**So… Emmie and Loki, huh? Tearing themselves and each other apart at the same time… **

**It is now official… Chapter 13 shall contain a shirtless Loki. Not giving any more spoilers than that, and circumstances of said shirtlessness shall remain a secret until such time as I choose to reveal them (next chapter :P). If you would like me to update faster so that we can get to a shirtless Loki, I will need major feedback from you guys. I have both chapter 12 and 13 written, but I won't update until I get at least 25 reviews altogether on this story. **

**God, I'm blackmailing you and bribing you guys… Darn. Hoped it wouldn't come to this… but I only got one review on the last chapter. Ah, well. To get to shirtless Loki, we must review, favorite, and follow. Anyone with suggestions is welcome to leave them in a review, or PM me. Feedback, suggestions, or any other kind of help is greatly appreciated. **


	12. Chapter 12

***Pre-Chapter Note: Okay, I warn you now… This chapter is kind of dark and rather out there. It is the strangest thing I have ever written… There is nothing "inappropriate" or "naughty" in this chapter. However, things get a little "dangerous." If you are a regular smut story reader, you will be disappointed, because nothing "bad" actually happens. However, if you're normally a little squeamish with anything suggestive, I warn you now… Read on, if you dare. **

Dagger (Part 1: Emmie's Torture)

Emmie and Loki had returned to sitting in a difficult silence. She was flipping the dagger Loki had allowed her to have between her fingers.

"Would you put that away already?" Loki muttered mutinously. "It puts me on edge when you have a weapon out all the time."

Emmie didn't look up from where the silver blade flipped over and under each finger, not once nicking her soft, pale skin. "No, I won't put it away. I might need to use it."

"The only one here is me. And you're not going to use it on me. So put it away," Loki said a little snappishly.

Emmie smirked, enjoying the fact that she was getting on his nerves. "You sure I won't use it on you?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "Have we not established this already, Emmie? Shall I take it from you yet again?"

"Rude. It's horribly bad manners to take away a gift," Emmie scolded, a twisted smirk on her lips. "What's the point of giving me it if you won't let me use it?"

"I just won't let you use it on me," Loki said quietly, not quite intimidated by her jokingly threatening, but definitely on edge.

Emmie glanced up from the blade to look at his warning face. She smiled. "Oh, but Loki, you'd look so nice with my name carved into your skin," she teased quietly. She wiggled the dagger between her thumb and pointer finger half-threateningly.

Loki rolled his eyes. "I'll let you carve your name into my skin the day you allow me to carve mine into yours."

Emmie's green eyes sparkled with mischief. Challenge accepted, she thought to herself. "Okay. Here." She thrust the dagger out to him, and he instinctively took it, though bewildered.

"What are you talking-?" Loki started to ask, suddenly very confused. He broke off as the teen pulled her shirt over her head. "Wait, what are you-?" he started to ask again, now very alarmed. She now sat on the bed before him with only a bra to cover her top half.

Emmie smirked with satisfaction as she neatly folded her shirt on her lap and looked expectantly at Loki. He was staring at her. Emmie just smiled. "What, never seen a girl wearing only a bra before?" she said mockingly.

"Emmie, what are you doing?" Loki asked, tearing his eyes away from her.

"Making you blush, obviously," Emmie murmured wickedly, perverse happiness flooding her as Loki's cheeks turned a bright red.

"Put your shirt back on, stupid girl," he spat.

"Don't think so," Emmie sang.

"What?"

"I said I don't think so."

"Why?"

"Because you said you'd let me carve my name into your skin the day I let you carve yours into mine. Start carving, Loki," Emmie ordered.

Loki fought to keep his eyes from wandering over her again. "Emmie, I wasn't—I didn't mean—"

"So you were bluffing?" Emmie asked. She already knew he had been, but it was beyond fun to make him squirm like this. "Or lying? Is there even really a difference? But basically you mean you won't carve your name into my skin in return for my carving mine into yours?"

Loki stayed silent, feeling like an ant under a boot. He decided he hated the feeling. But Emmie had somehow gotten him in the palm of her hand.

"What, are you afraid?" Emmie whispered, leaning forward slightly and smirking.

Loki threw her a glare. "Why can't I just carve my name on your arm or something?"

Emmie rolled her eyes. "Because people would see it and know that one, I've been talking to you. And two, they would know that there had been a dagger in my grasp at some point. So you're going to have to do it somewhere people won't see."

Loki grimaced. He hated how she was manipulating him. And why was this idea so repulsive to him? Shouldn't he be welcoming the opportunity to inflict pain on this girl? Shouldn't he be filled with malicious glee at the thought of leaving this girl with a scar that literally had his name on it? But the thought wasn't a happy one.

"Loki, are you afraid?" Emmie whispered again, scooting closer until she was almost whispering in his ear.

Irritation flashed through him and he shook his head. "Where do you want me to do it?" he asked flatly, giving in.

Emmie shrugged. "Your choice, Monsieur Tattoo Artiste," she smirked.

Loki reluctantly let his eyes scan her body. He decided he'd rather do it on her back than her front. Then she wouldn't be able to look at him with her teasing green eyes. "Turn around," he ordered, and she obliged without question.

"You know, the joke's really on you with all this," Emmie said thoughtfully. "My name's longer. That means more carving."

"If you'd like, I can put my first name, last name, and all my titles," Loki offered sarcastically. "But then your entire back would be covered with blood once I was finished. And then the joke would be on you because 'Emmie Hill'' is far shorter than 'Loki Laufeyson, god of mischief, god of trickery and lies, god of—"

"Or I can put 'Emmie Hill, Mastermind Murderess,' and then all the nicknames people have given me… like 'demon, devil child, witch, monster, beast, manipulative psycho…'" Emmie trailed off. "I could go on. I think we'd both be about even if we did all our titles."

Loki sighed. "So what do you want me to put?"

Emmie considered for a moment. "If we want this to be even, you can put, 'Loki, god of mischief and lies.' And then I can put 'Emmie, mastermind murderess.' Then yours is only one letter longer than mine."

Loki hesitated. "Fine." He positioned the dagger in his hand and looked at Emmie's back critically. "Right or left shoulder?"

"Left. If you do it on my right, it might hurt when I move my right arm. And I'm right-handed, so I need that arm for using that dagger."

Loki nodded. "Lie down on your stomach," he muttered.

Emmie did so, tucking her arms under her chest. She wasn't sure if she was starting to second-guess herself. Was it really a good idea to be at Loki's mercy like this? After all, she was defenseless, and he had a dagger, and she had no shirt on, and she was giving him permission to wield the dagger against her. She forced herself to keep her breathing calm and not let Loki know how nervous she was becoming. She knew he was even more nervous than she, and the thought made her smirk.

Loki couldn't help but hesitate, unsure of how to do this. He sat on the side of the bed as Emmie lay on her stomach. He was on her right side, which meant he would have to lean over her to set the dagger tip down on the left shoulder blade. He was almost afraid of touching her bare skin. It looked—_she _looked delicate. But the way she had challenged him to do this made him determined to get this over with, just to prove her wrong. He wasn't afraid, and he was the one in power. Not her.

The dagger in his left hand, Loki gently placed his right hand on her right shoulder as he stretched out his left arm to cut through the skin on her left shoulder. Emmie stiffened ever so slightly when Loki's hand touched her bare shoulder. She forced herself to relax and pretend that her heart wasn't beating faster than a helicopter's rotors. Loki noticed that her skin was covered in goosebumps.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"Your hand is freezing," she whispered. And that was true. But that wasn't the only reason she was getting goosebumps.

"My apologies, Mastermind Murderess," he muttered, but his heart was only half in the mocking.

"Loki, would you just do it already?" Emmie asked, sounding both breathless and irritated.

Loki realized this must be just as nerve-wracking for her as it was for him. The idea gave him some solace. Perhaps she wasn't in as much control as she liked to pretend to be.

"If you insist," he replied. He swallowed again and then set the point of the dagger against the pale skin between her left shoulder blade and her spine.

Emmie fought back the urge to shiver as the cold metal touched her sensitive skin. She only winced slightly as he made the first stroke with the dagger. It did hurt, but the adrenaline rushing through her as she felt him lean a little lower over her back in concentration made it hard to focus on the pain.

Loki felt Emmie stiffen slightly as the point of the dagger pierced her pale skin. He leaned a little lower over her, the more accurate to make his cuts. He lifted the dagger slightly as he finished the 'L' in Loki. "Doing alright?" he asked quietly.

Emmie didn't know the answer to his question as he drew away slightly after only two strokes of the dagger. "I'm fine, Loki. Keep going."

Loki did as the girl instructed, setting the sharp point on her skin again and leaning low over her to finish carving his name into her skin. He wondered why she was having him do this. Did she really want his name forever in her skin, or did she really just enjoy pain, or was she just doing this because she knew it made him squirm with discomfort?

Emmie let out a slight gasp as the dagger's point dug in a little deeper than it had previously. She felt his hands pause. She could feel him hesitate for a moment, pulling the dagger away. She could tell he wasn't as close as he had been before.

Loki stopped dead when Emmie let out a small gasp of pain as he dotted the first 'I' in mischief. She trembled ever so slightly. Loki could feel it under his hands. It worried him. Emmie was so strong and yet so delicate at the same time. Why did she insist he inflict injury on her for no reason other than to prove herself? And he wasn't sure if she was trying to prove herself to him for some reason, or if she was trying to prove herself to herself. He drew away slightly, unsure if he should continue any longer. If he _could _continue any longer. It was driving him mad, having Emmie like this. Helpless. Exposed. At his mercy. And this time, he was convinced, it wasn't an act.

Emmie waited a moment for Loki to continue. She knew he wasn't done yet. He hadn't done enough slicing her skin to have made all twenty-four characters. "Why'd you stop?" she asked, her voice slightly choked with pain she hadn't even noticed until that last stroke of the dagger.

Loki was conflicted. He didn't know if he should continue this any longer. "I'm done."

Emmie twisted her body slightly so that she lay on her side, glaring at him. Loki's hand slipped off her right shoulder, the absence of the weight feeling odd now. "Liar," she proclaimed, glaring at him accusatorily.

"Yes, we've established that. Isn't that what I'm carving into your back?" Loki asked scathingly.

Emmie rolled her eyes. "Yeah. And you're not done. Why'd you stop?"

Loki was at a loss for words. He didn't want to say that she was hurt. He didn't want to say that he was hurting her. He shouldn't care about that. That was sentiment. That was weakness. But there was something deeply unsettling and yet satisfying about all of this.

Emmie stared at him calculatingly for a moment. "Loki, finish already," she said, her voice a threatening order.

"Why?"

"Because I told you to," she growled. Because she liked being able to order him around. Because she liked the way Loki's hands rested gently on her skin even as the dagger slit her skin. Because even though the whole situation was so wrong, it was so right.

Loki considered his options. He could refuse. But what would be the point? "Lie down again," he sighed, defeated by the seventeen year old.

Emmie smirked at his submission. There really was something perverse about the situation. She was in control by making him allow her to be under his control. She was in charge by making him hurt her. It made no sense. But it made sense to them. And they both loved and hated it at the same time.

Loki gently rested his right hand on her right shoulder again, and his left wrist rested on her skin as the hand wielded the dagger. He resumed marring her pale skin with cuts. Neither spoke or made a sound until he got to the 'n' in and. Emmie let out another gasp and tensed as he traced back over the first line. He quickly finished the letter and waited for her to force her muscles to relax again, like she had the previous times she had tensed. She didn't. She remained stiff and tense, like the pain was too much for her to force herself to loosen her muscles again. He waited another moment. She remained tense.

Emmie was frozen with the building pain in her back. Why had she insisted on this? She wasn't sure if she could finish this anymore. Each cut seemed to be searing with burning pain, as if the dagger was on fire. Her muscles bunched as Loki traced another letter, doubling over a cut. She bit back a whimper, but her muscles clenched in response to the pain. She waited for Loki to continue and finish this agony already. Then she would pretend the dagger cuts weren't hurting as badly as they were. But he wasn't cutting her anymore. He had stopped. Why had he stopped?

"Emmie," he whispered her name.

The girl seemed to tense even more under his hands when he whispered her name.

"Emmie, relax," he murmured. "It'll only be worse if your muscles are tensed. It makes them rigid and stand out more. It makes them easier for the dagger to cut. It makes more blood flow out of them. Relax," he explained quietly. Just stop scaring me, he added silently, begging the girl whose resilient malice and anger and strength he had taken for granted.

Emmie heard his words, urging her to relax. She heard him explain that it would hurt worse if she remained tense because rigid muscles were easier to cut. She understood his words. But it seemed like her muscles were locked in place. She couldn't relax them. "Loki, I can't make myself relax," she mumbled flatly. She hated confessing it, but it seemed he wouldn't finish this stupid thing she had started until she relaxed.

Loki sighed. He felt terrible. She had made him do this to her, but he had still been the one who had done it. He rubbed his right hand across her unmarked right shoulder gently. She stiffened even more. He paused, unsure if he was doing something wrong. Stupid, really. He was carving his name into her shoulder, and he was wondering if trying to make her relax was the wrong thing to do. He trailed his hand down her back in a comforting way. He stroked her unhurt upper back, trying to soothe her. "Emmie, relax," he murmured again.

Emmie let out a shuddering breath as Loki rubbed his hand up and down her back. He whispered her name and told her to relax. She hated every fiber of her own being as she found that she was once again able to release the tension from her muscles. How dare her body be soothed by him. And still she was grateful that he had managed to do it. She felt herself collapse into the uncomfortable mattress. She buried her face in the scratchy sheets and sighed.

Loki was surprised when Emmie actually did relax after he ran his hand down her back a few times and whispered her name. Had he really just done that, or had she done that herself?

"Loki, finish this already," Emmie growled, her voice muffled by the bed sheets.

Loki sighed deeply and squeezed her shoulder gently in an attempt to reassure her that it would be over soon.

"I'm not a baby, Loki," she mumbled. "You don't have to treat me like one."

Loki didn't answer as he finished with the word 'and' and began on 'lies.'

Emmie couldn't decide whether she wanted him to finish or not. She wanted the pain to stop. But she didn't want him to move away from her. She kind of liked having him this close. But she would never admit that to him. Doing so would be weakness. She would never just ask him to stay with her. She would never just ask him to oh-so-gently calm her with gentle touches from his tentative hand.

Loki finished with one last stroke, inscribing a bloody 's' into her back to finish the word 'lies.' "I'm done now," he muttered, feeling irritation towards her for making him feel this way about her. Why did she have to be so damn… vulnerable? It was so easy to not want to hurt her when she was like this. Yet there were times she made it seem like the best thing to do would be to hurt her, just to keep others safe. Emmie was so erratic in her mood swings and feelings and attitude. It was impossible to be in her company. But then, it was impossible to be in Loki's, too.

Loki was still leaned over her. He wanted to just lie down next to her and apologize for what he had done to her shoulder.

Emmie squeezed her eyes shut, grateful that he couldn't see the tears that were trying to escape. She didn't even know why she was so close to crying. Really, she had no clue. It wasn't the pain. That wasn't it, though the pain was excruciating. No, she felt something more like… desperation. Anger and confusion and desperation. She didn't want to want Loki so close to her. But yet she was relieved when he didn't move away immediately. She was confused because she had thought she was in control. She had thought she was being manipulative and devious by forcing Loki to hurt her. But somehow she had ended up needing him to comfort her. And she was desperate because she was desperate to get back in control and to escape these feelings for Loki. She had to become manipulative again. She had to become devious again. She had to be the mastermind murderess again, and not the girl who let herself be at Loki's mercy.

Loki still didn't move away. He wanted to use his magic and just erase the dully bleeding cuts that proclaimed his name and title in wicked crimson against her pale back. But he knew she would yell at him if he did. For some reason, she wanted this. Though he couldn't imagine why. He forced himself to not stroke his hand down her back again. He forced himself not to lie down and pull her close to him in order to let her know that he had hated every moment he had been forced to harm her. "Are you satisfied now, Emmie?" he asked quietly. She hadn't said anything when he announced he was done.

"No," she murmured.

Loki stayed silent, though dread filled him at her denial.

"Loki, get off me so I can get up," Emmie said. She didn't really want him to move away from her, but she knew if she allowed this to continue, she would give in to the weak, sentimental feelings she felt.

Loki drew away and slid to where he had been sitting on the bed before this whole madness started. He watched as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. He found himself starting to blush again, and he averted his eyes from her mostly-bare form.

Emmie smirked with satisfaction as she saw Loki's face. He was paler than usual, but he started to blush again when she sat up. She was in control again. She could manipulate him again, and scare him, and embarrass him, and do whatever the hell she felt like doing.

"Now put your shirt back on," he muttered mutinously.

Emmie shook her head, smirking. "Nope."

Loki's icy blue eyes flashed in surprise and anger. "Emmie—"

"My back's still bleeding. If I bleed through my shirt, it'll be just as suspicious as if I had the cuts on my arm," Emmie said nonchalantly.

Loki groaned inwardly. "Fine. Then at least turn around so I can clean it up."

Emmie looked dubious for a moment, then turned around.

Loki winced as he saw the wounds on her back. Droplets of blood were now starting to escape and run down her back. He conjured a handkerchief and gently dabbed at the cuts, wiping the excess blood. Emmie tensed, mentally cursing herself for allowing herself to show that it hurt. Loki didn't comment. He didn't tease her for showing weakness. He simply touched her untouched shoulder gently as he continued dabbing her wounds. He didn't dare tease her for showing that it hurt. He just wanted to comfort her for it. She stiffened even more as his hand touched her shoulder gently.

"Loki, _quit that!_" she hissed in irritation.

Only now did Loki smirk. It wasn't the pain that she minded so much as his gentle touch. And _that, _he found, was something that was deeply satisfying. "Quit what, Mastermind Murderess?" he taunted quietly, using his thumb to brush a stray lock of hair off her right shoulder. A slight tremor ran through her, and Loki smirked again. Maybe Emmie wasn't innocent-minded. Maybe she was devious, and maybe she was vicious, and maybe she grinned at the thought of sticking a knife into anything living. Maybe she only pretended to be innocent-minded. But she was only seventeen. Her body was still innocent. She had probably never experienced anything like this before. He trailed a finger down the strap of her bra, and she twitched involuntarily. Loki shook his head as he continued gently wiping blood away.

Emmie shivered slightly as his hand ghosted over her bare skin. God, she hated him. She would have to get back at him for this. She knew she would. She knew she would make him regret teasing her like this. She would have preferred he choke her half to death. She would have preferred him slapping her across the face. She would have preferred anything but to have him behind her, gently patting away the blood she had insisted he draw. Anything but to have his hand tenderly caressing her shoulder. She hated how good it felt. She knew he was smirking behind her back as he made her shiver. How could pleasure be used as torture? She wasn't sure, but somehow Loki was managing it.

Her cuts were no longer dripping with blood. They were drier, and the words were clearly visible, carved into her skin. Loki's eyes travelled over the words. Loki, god of mischief and lies. Guilt flooded him. "There," he muttered, drawing away again.

AS soon as his hands left her skin, Emmie spun around and slapped him across the cheek, her green eyes blazing.

Loki winced and touched his cheek, looking at the angry girl critically. He couldn't help but smirk with satisfaction. "What?"

"Screw you, Loki," she spat murderously. "You can go to hell."

Loki smirked more broadly. "Whatever you say. Your cuts aren't bleeding anymore. You can put your shirt back on."

Emmie shot him a venomous glare and yanked her shirt over her head. "I hate you," she muttered.

"Good," he murmured. But he knew she didn't really hate him. The way she reacted when his hands touched her skin told him that. And he really didn't want her to hate him. He didn't hate her. Emmie finished putting her shirt on and tousled her light brown hair back into place before turning her hateful eyes on the smug-looking man. "I'm gonna get you for that," she spat, jabbing a finger at him.

"Yes, I'm sure," Loki said drily, sounding unconvinced. "Are we done here, Emmie?" he asked.

Emmie's scowl vanished, replaced by her own smug smirk. "Nope."

Loki didn't ask. He knew she would say whatever it was soon enough.

"Loki, the deal was this. I let you carve your name into my skin. In return, you allow me to carve mine into yours." A twisted grin curled her lips as Loki grimaced with that realization.

**Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: Alright, this chapter has me super nervous… but a promise is a promise, and so I must post this chapter. I've got a feeling this chapter will either get a lot of response or no response at all… Hope it's the first :P I have had this chapter written since… like… Almost since I wrote Loki and Emmie's first encounter… So please let me know what you think. I hope this chapter doesn't scare some of you guys away… **

**I promised you shirtless Loki Chapter 13, and now you can see why. Let me know if you're looking forward to it, or if you're scared now that you kind of have an idea how it's gonna go. XD **

**Please favorite, follow, leave me a review on this most strange of chapters… or feel free to PM me if you'd rather bash and/or praise me in private. **


	13. Chapter 13

*If you've made it past the last chapter, and are still reading… I think you're good. If the last chapter kind of threw you off… this chapter is more of the same type of stuff. Again, nothing "naughty" but definitely "dangerous." Just warning you now.

Dagger (Part 2:Loki's Torture)

"Loki, the deal was this. I let you carve your name into my skin. In return, you allow me to carve mine into yours." Emmie smirked mischievously, looking wickedly at Loki.

Loki's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. He had been so caught up in what he had been forced to do to Emmie that he had forgotten how it all had started. His stupid bluff, assuming she wouldn't allow him to carve his name into her skin. But she had. She had insisted. Why? So that she could return the favor to him. "Emmie, this is madness," he muttered.

"Is it madness?" she asked quietly. "Is it?"

Loki froze, recalling a memory from long ago. The conversation he now had with Emmie echoed one he'd had with Thor… on the Rainbow Bridge… just before he had fallen into his destiny. He shot a glare at Emmie, but she only smiled. Why was she so twisted? She was vulnerable one moment, making Loki's mind whirl as he tried to think straight and not say what he felt. The other half of the time, she made him squirm under her piercing, wicked, hateful green gaze as she manipulated him like a puppet master with a marionette, making him dance to her whims.

"You're not going to go back on your word, are you?" she asked, putting on her mask of innocence. She pretended to look hurt by the idea. She cast down her eyes and bit her bottom lip, looking disappointed.

Loki just wanted to turn away and not look at her. She was a wicked creature. He knew she was faking her innocent disappointment. He knew, but she was such a good little actress. He didn't want to let her carve her name into his flesh. But then, he hadn't wanted to carve his own into hers. But he had still done that. "You're a witch," he spat.

Emmie's green eyes flicked up to his icy blue ones. Her feigned innocence had disappeared again, replaced by gleeful malice. "Agreed," she quipped. Then she simply held out her hand, and Loki reluctantly handed over the dagger.

Emmie smiled her twisted smile and looked at Loki expectantly. He held back a groan and started to roll up the sleeve of his right arm.

"Whatcha doing there, Your High and Mightiness?" Emmie asked brightly, her voice dripping with disdain.

Loki didn't look up to meet her gaze. "Rolling up my sleeve so you can carve your name into my skin," he said stonily.

Emmie scoffed. "I don't think so, god of mischief and lies."

Loki paused and looked at her, quizzical.

Emmie smirked evilly. "Take off your shirt."

Loki stared at her. "What?"

"I took off my shirt and you carved your name into my shoulder. Take off your shirt so I can carve my name into your shoulder," Emmie ordered, flipping the dagger between her hands excitedly.

Loki glared. "No."

Emmie's eyes flashed. "Yes."

"I don't have to do everything you say," Loki answered, feeling like he really did.

Emmie smirked. "I beg to differ, Loki. Take off your shirt."

Loki felt like he was falling. How could she have this kind of control over him? He really didn't have to. What would she do? Nothing. She couldn't do anything to him. So why the hell was he slipping his shirt off like he was her slave?

Emmie watched, expressionless, as Loki started to take off his shirt. She didn't know why he followed her orders. And she didn't know why she was so determined to have him at her mercy. Revenge, maybe. She wanted to get back at him for every cutting word he had said to her, and for every time he had pinned her to the ground or the wall. And since, for some reason, he was following her orders, she planned to get her payback. Loki watched Emmie's expressionless face carefully as he shrugged off his outer shirt, and then the lighter tunic underneath, leaving his torso exposed. She appeared to have no reaction to have Loki shirtless in front of her. And he felt... slightly offended by her lack of reaction. He had been alarmed, shocked, and slightly embarrassed when she had taken her shirt off. That she had no similar reaction for him made him feel slightly ashamed of himself.

Emmie's heartbeat sped as she gave Loki's bare torso a once-over. He wasn't as much of a stick figure as he looked with a shirt on. He was muscular, but in a lean way rather than the way other men were built; Loki wasn't one of those big, brawny bodybuilders. She thought he was… actually, kind of attractive, shirtless. Hell, screw it, he was hot. Well, he was devilishly good-looking normally, but shirtless, Emmie's stupid female heart skipped a beat. She wanted to tell it to shut up. She kept her face expressionless, not betraying her inner impression of him.

"Now what?" Loki asked in a low voice.

Emmie considered. "Right or left shoulder?"

"Left. I wield the scepter in my right hand."

Emmie frowned. "You used the dagger on my shoulder with your left hand."

"No one said I can't be ambidextrous," Loki scoffed, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "I just use the scepter in my right hand."

"Whatever you say," Emmie shrugged, pretending to be careless with the situation. "Lie down on your stomach."

Loki hesitated, looking into her bright green eyes. There was some dark expression in them, clouding something else out. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was.

Emmie held up the dagger half-threateningly. "Now, Loki."

Loki lied down on his stomach on her scratchy twin bed, resting his head on his arms. "Just get it over with, Emmie," he grumbled.

Emmie smirked as she slid so that she was sitting next to his waist. She twirled the dagger in her fingers carelessly. "Get this over with, you say? I don't think so." She trailed the fingers of her left hand over his back. He tensed as her soft fingertips brushed over his skin. "I think not, Loki." She let her left hand rest lightly on his left upper arm while her right hand poised the point of the dagger over his left shoulder blade. The cold tip touched his skin, and he forced himself not to tense. Emmie let the razor sharp tip simply rest on his skin for a moment, not piercing his skin just yet.

"Emmie…" Loki spat her name angrily, but couldn't think of anything else to say to finish his sentence. He couldn't threaten her. He couldn't order her to do anything. He simply had to wait for her to do what she would. He couldn't help but tense as he felt her lean closer to him until her lips were close to his ear. Her breath tickled his ear as she whispered, making him suppress a shiver.

"This will not be over quickly. You will not enjoy this," she whispered.

And then Loki winced as the tip of the dagger made the first stroke of the letter 'e' for Emmie.

Emmie traced each letter with care, not wanting to make a mistake. It was somewhat difficult to keep the dagger steady, because Loki kept twitching or tensing every time she rested her wrist on his back to make the next cut. "Loki, you're not making this easy," she murmured, her voice a mock-soothing tone.

"You're not exactly helping," he spat mutinously. "Do you have something against-?"

"You? Yeah, I kind of do," Emmie interrupted.

Loki fell silent. "What the hell do you have against me?" he hissed.

Emmie considered. He had teased her just minutes ago by making her tense with soft touches. But she wasn't sure exactly how to word that. "I've got the blade of a dagger against you," she finally said flatly. "So I'd suggest keeping a little more still, genius, unless you want me to mess up and sever your spine or something."

Loki growled in frustration. Emmie was making him go insane. Her touch was light and feather-soft. It tickled and made his skin tingle where she touched him. And he knew she was enjoying every second of it.

She resumed her task, sighing in exasperation as he tensed every few seconds. She had barely started tracing the 'a' in 'mastermind' when she had to suddenly jerk her hand away to avoid puncturing his skin too deep as he gave an involuntary twitch when she repositioned her left hand. "Loki!" she exclaimed, smacking his arm in irritation.

"_Emmie!"_ he returned, his voice laced with annoyance.

"Quit moving," she ordered.

"I would if I could," Loki said through clenched teeth.

There was a moment of angry silence. Then Emmie smirked. She knew this wouldn't help him, per se, but it would certainly help her. She scooted across the bed and swung one of her legs over Loki.

"The hell are you doing?" Loki asked in alarm as Emmie straddled his back.

"Might help you hold still if I'm in this position rather than leaning over you," Emmie muttered, pleased with the panic in his voice.

"_Emmie, get the hell off me!"_ Loki demanded. His heart was about ready to explode.

"No. I'm about halfway done," Emmie lied. She was only about a third of the way done. But he didn't need to know that. Work probably would go faster this way. She had a better grip on the dagger and a more direct reach to Loki's shoulder.

Loki swallowed as Emmie's hand rested on his left arm again, holding it to the mattress to stop it moving so much. "I warned you, didn't I, Loki?" she cooed. She continued. And Loki didn't move as much, but he seemed to have simply frozen in shock.

Loki fought to keep his breath under control as Emmie continued carving letters into his shoulder. He hardly noticed the pain, too busy being distracted by her weight on his lower back. Her knees were pressing slightly into either side of his ribcage. She was right there. On _top _of him. He could barely breathe. Emmie had been right about one thing: it was not over quickly. But he wasn't sure about the other part. He wasn't sure if he enjoyed this. The erratic beating of his heart, his breath barely able to travel through his windpipe, the pain in his left shoulder. And yet the adrenaline rush Emmie gave him from being this close was… insanity. Yes, it was insanity. Emmie was insane, he was insane. This whole situation was insane. But that didn't necessarily mean he couldn't enjoy it. Emmie's fingers grazed over his skin again, and Loki suppressed a shiver as he let out a long, tense breath.

Emmie smirked as she started to make the blade slide into the carving of the last three letters. Beneath her, Loki was hyperventilating, and she could feel his heart thudding under her fingers through his back, and she could feel him trembling slightly. She tried not to giggle. He was slowly losing it. And it was because of her. She felt slightly proud that she was having this effect on him. "Doing okay, Loki?" she breathed.

It was a long moment before Loki let out a hesitant, choked, "Yes."

"Good." She sighed. He was lying. She knew. She didn't care. This was far too enjoyable. She started on the last 's' of 'Murderess'. She traced the letter, the dagger leaving a trail of crimson behind it. She finished, then paused. "Hand me that handkerchief," she commanded.

The handkerchief Loki had used to clean up Emmie's back was next to his head. He reluctantly took hold of it and held it up for Emmie to take. His hand trembled slightly, and he felt a flash of irritation towards himself for showing some level of his inner turmoil. He tried to slow his racing heartbeat by focusing on his breathing. He ignored the feeling of Emmie's hands delicately dabbing the blood away with the stained handkerchief.

Emmie pursed her lips as Loki showed no reaction to her soft touches as she patted his wounds with the cloth. She wanted to really freak him out. She wanted to get a rise out of him. It seemed that he was now doing his best to not give any reaction. Emmie smirked as she got an idea of how to drive him over the edge.

Loki focused on his breathing, pretending he couldn't feel Emmie's butterfly-light fingers. She seemed to be finished now. She stopped dabbing at his shoulder. Her hands drew away. Loki let out a sigh of relief. She would leave him alone now, hopefully. Then suddenly, her hands rested lightly on his back again, and he felt a gentle stream of air tickle the injured skin of his shoulder. He jerked violently, rolling onto his back and sitting up.

Emmie grinned as Loki stiffened and twisted when she gently blew on his cuts. She was knocked off of him, falling onto the floor as Loki sat up in surprise. Emmie rolled to her feet, a wicked smirk on her lips. She knew that would get him.

Loki stared at her, half-shocked, half-glaring. "_Damn it, Emmie,, what the hell was that?!_" he demanded, breathing hard. Her breath tickling the sensitive skin made his heartbeat skyrocket. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and if he had been tense before, it was nothing to the tenseness in his body now.

Emmie let out a low chuckle that no seventeen-year-old should have been able to produce.

Loki stood and strode over to her. He grabbed her small shoulders and shook her. "_What the hell?_" he snapped, staring at her smug little smirk.

"Making sure the cuts were dry so you could put your shirt back on," she sang sweetly.

Loki gave her a hard, bitter look. He shook his head at her feral grin and retrieved his clothing from the foot of the bed.

Emmie just smiled and returned to her place sitting next to him.

Loki glared daggers at her as he slipped his shirt on again. Emmie only smirked more at his murderous look. Which, of course, only made Loki glare more at her. Why did she have to drive him so crazy.

"Doing alright, Loki?" Emmie asked. "You look a little…" she looked thoughtful. "Pale? On edge? Freaked out?"

Loki threw her a look. "You're not in as much control as you think you are, Emmie," he said ominously.

Emmie smirked. "No?" She scooted and brought her lips so close that they almost brushed his ear as she whispered. "Then why do you go so stiff and frozen when I do this?" she breathed.

Loki felt irritation course through him. She was right. When her breath tickled his ear, the hair on the back of his neck rose,, and every muscle in his body went rigid. He gave her a mutinous look as she drew away, smirking smugly. Then he smirked to himself. He leaned forward and cupped her cheek, bringing his face only a few inches from hers. He smirked as she tensed, eyes wide and hands trembling in her lap. "Perhaps the same reason you tense and get goosebumps when I do this, Emmie," he murmured. He drew away again, and he felt like laughing at the expression on Emmie's face. It was priceless. She looked indignant, yet shocked, and yet she was blushing. "Nice face, by the way," he said scathingly.

Emmie glared and turned away. "Nice reaction to me blowing on your back."

"Nice reaction to my attempt to calm you down… oh, wait," Loki said venomously. "It wasn't just an attempt. _It worked," _he spat.

Emmie sneered. "Just like my attempt to make you quit moving so much. Oh, wait, it wasn't an attempt. _It worked,_" she mimicked.

Loki growled in frustration, but Emmie just smirked.

"And you look ridiculous when you blush," Emmie added, trying desperately to find insults to throw at him, to distract herself from the urge to lean close to Loki again. For some reason, she liked the way her blood tingled when she got close to him. She loved the way he would go tense. But she wasn't supposed to like anything about him. But telling herself that she didn't like anything about him would be a blunt lie.

"You look even more ridiculous," Loki shot back.

"I hate you," Emmie growled, desperate to convince herself.

"Good," Loki answered automatically, turning away. Why was his damn heart hurting? Why did it _ache? _Surely it had nothing to do with the way he and Emmie were shooting insults back and forth. But he knew it did. But for some reason, he couldn't stop himself from continuing to throw hateful words at her. "You're a little beast."

"Suppose that's supposed to insinuate that you're beauty?" Emmie asked scathingly. "Because _that _certainly isn't the case."

"Suppose that's supposed to insinuate that we're in love?" Loki asked scathingly in return. "Because _that _certainly isn't the case."

A heart-stopping moment of silence as the words were considered by both Loki and Emmie.

"You wish it were the case," Emmie spat.

"_You _wish it were the case," Loki spat back.

"Yeah, that was mature, Loki," Emmie said mockingly. "Simply repeating my own words. Are you so unoriginal and uncreative that you can't come up with your own insults?"

Loki reached forward and grabbed her wrist, forcing her to come face to face with him. "_Would you shut up?_" he hissed, his eyes boring into hers with such intensity that she was forced to look away.

Emmie was overtaken with ambivalence. She felt a deep hatred for him, and yet a deep… she refused to even let herself think the word. But it was unacceptable. And so she forced herself to look away from his intense gaze and tried to ignore the rapid thumping of her heart in her ears at having him this close, face to face, gripping her wrist so hard it almost hurt. "Do you really want the answer to that?" she whispered, unable to think of any other clever comeback to his asking if she would shut up.

Loki just felt lost, looking at the girl. His eyes flicked from her eyes, which no longer met his, down to her lips. He recalled his lips pressing to hers a short while ago. But things were different then. She had been only a tool then, and merely a pawn to be won over. Now… now she was more. And yet somehow less. She wasn't quite the tool he had been looking for. While she was a cold-blooded killer, an impulsive violent beast, she was also more than that. And she was affecting him in the most infuriating of ways. His eyes lingered on her face another moment, deliberating his next action.

Emmie's eyes suddenly clicked up to meet his again, a hint of defiance through her evident fear.

Loki's chest tightened at the mixture of emotion in her eyes. He leaned closer to her, until his breath tickled her lips. Emmie merely stared, daring him to make a move. Though in her mind, she was more like begging him to make a move. To put her out of the misery of suspense.

Torn, Loki took a deep breath… and then abruptly shoved her away, breaking the intimate closeness they had shared for that brief moment.

Emmie let out a gasp of breath as Loki pushed her away, released her wrist, and stood. She was tossed back onto her elbows from the force of his shove, and stared, breathless, as he crossed the room and pressed both hands flat against the wall. He leaned heavily against the wall, breathing deeply as he evidently tried to get ahold of himself.

Loki refused to let himself turn around and look at her again. What the hell was happening to him? "What the hell is wrong with you, Emmie?" he spat mutinously.

"What's wrong with _me?_" Emmie cried shrilly. "You think there's something wrong with _me?_"

Loki answered with only a growl, still not looking at her.

Emmie stood from her spot on the bed and stalked over to him, but he whipped around, glaring, and backed away, as if being too close to her was something he would no longer allow. There was a moment as they looked at each other accusatorily.

"This is _your _fault," he snarled angrily.

"_What's _my fault?" Emmie snapped, her voice dangerous.

Loki shot her a dark look. "_This._"

Silence. They both knew what he referred to. The fact that close proximity made their hearts race and breath quicken. The fact that suddenly they were finding that sentiments just might be in both their natures.

"_This… _is nothing," Emmie said quietly, making her meaning clear in only three words. But she tasted something bitter in her mouth, and she had to force herself to once again not meet Loki's eyes. She knew she wasn't the only one with these feelings. But she was, frankly, quite terrified of what they might mean. So she and Loki would pretend nothing was happening.

Loki smiled wryly. "Mmhmm." He turned away again with a sigh, both appreciative and loathing. "Emmie, I'm leaving now. But I'm leaving your door unlocked. Are you listening?"

"Yes," Emmie muttered.

"When you hear a commotion in the distance, you are going to leave this room. You are going to make your way to a place where they are keeping my scepter. You are going to retrieve it, and then make your way to the detention level. I will be there. And from there, we will leave and make our way to New York. Clear?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Silence as the Mastermind Murderess and the god of mischief and lies brooded over each other.

"Loki?"

"What?"

Silence.

"What, Emmie?"

"I… I don't know," she whispered.

Loki scoffed. "Wonderful."

"I hate you."

"Keep telling yourself that."

Emmie frowned. She had expected his usual "good." Instead… he just acknowledged that he knew she didn't hate him. No, her feelings on the god of mischief were far more layered and complicated than simple hate.

Loki glanced back at her as he headed for the door. He sent her a simple humorless smirk. "Remember. The scepter, and then the detention level. I'm sure even you can remember that."

"Screw you."

"Damn you."

"Go to hell."

"Right after New York, Murderess." He opened the door and waited for any other comments from her. She said nothing. So he left.

And for the second time, she watched someone leave her room feeling lost and torn apart emotionally and mentally.

**Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: Ermergerd, you guys… It almost makes me laugh. Chapter 12 had some great response, much to my surprise… D'aww, y'all make me feel not so crazy to be as deranged as I am. XD **

**I know some of you are once again wondering… if I like this, does it make me crazy? Is it bad that I'm liking this twisted story? According to me? Nah… well, maybe. But nah. You're not alone, I assure you. Love you, my fellow psychos ;) **

**Now, to business… I have absolute nothing written of the story from this point on. I'm flying blind. I got absolutely no set plans… so… help me? I'll try my best even if no one gives me help, but I'm totally unsure about anything from this point on. I had chapters 12 and 13 sitting on my laptop for a month, but never started working on a 14. Lol I feel like a klutz for letting myself get to this point. Anywho. **

**Please favorite, follow, review, or PM me. I greatly appreciate every review I get… we have now reached 40 reviews. So… everyone wins a free tattoo from Loki. ;) God I'm deranged, aren't I…? **


	14. Chapter 14

*OH MY GOD YOU GUUYS IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE! Lol Here it is… the long-awaited Chapter 14… For any new readers, after writing Chapter 13, I discontinued the story. After a couple heartfelt pleas… I decided to continue. So… here we are, on Chapter 14. I hope you all like it.

Scepter

Loki paced his cell, feeling distracted and agitated. All he could think of at the moment was Emmie, and the scene that had played out nearly half an hour ago. Since he had returned to his cell, he had been pacing back and forth, simply replaying it in his head.

Emmie. Maria Hill the Second. The Mastermind Murderess. The one that was driving Loki crazy with her teasing green eyes and disdainful twisted smirk, and her terrible tendency to attempt to kill him and then collapse into tears, almost making Loki want to pity or comfort her… but neither was in his nature. Yet still, his breath faltered slightly, catching in his throat when he recalled the feeling of her warm skin against his cooler skin, and the exquisite mixture of burning bliss and tantalizing torture as her fingers grazed over his back, and her breath kissing the freshly bleeding cuts on his shoulder.

Loki shuddered slightly. It was too impossibly… unreal that it had happened. And the fact that he was still so hung up on the event was what infuriated him the most. Damn his masochism. Damn his… he clenched his fists at his sides. His _attraction _to Emmie. To her dark amusement and constant mental agony, and her clever manipulation and her damned vulnerability once he had her in his grasp.

He wanted desperately to go back to her room and demand answers from her. Answers he knew she didn't have, either, but he wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until she was in tears. And then he would see her cry, and the self-loathing for doing it to her would consume him, and he would be just as mentally torn apart as she was. And they would once again share that emotion of being lost and lost as to why the loss was there. There was indeed empathy between them. Empathy for the constant darkness and the constant hatred for the world around them, only abated by self-hatred. Loki was disturbed that he had found someone he understood in a seventeen-year-old Midgardian girl. The mere idea was inconceivable, and he could hardly bear to accept it.

He suddenly paused. There was someone behind him, standing just outside his glass prison. He had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't sensed the presence before. That was the second time Emmie had filled his mind, distracting him from his surroundings. He smiled wryly. "There's not many people that can sneak up on me," he said as he turned, meeting the eyes of Natasha Romanoff.

Emmie, alone in her room, tugged at her bottom lip absentmindedly as she brooded silently, pacing. She could not believe herself. The only thing she seemed to be able to think about was Loki, reliving the scene that had happened she-didn't-know-or-care-how-long-ago. Since he had left, all she had been able to do was pace and relive it.

Loki. Loki Laufeyson, the god of mischief and lies. The one that made her head spin with his piercing blue eyes and taunting arrogance, and yet the quiet reserve at times when he wasn't pinning her to the wall with burning anger in his eyes.

She let out a soft groan and kicked the wall of her room so hard her foot hurt. It didn't stop her from pacing the room.

And now what was she supposed to do? Just… stay in here until she heard a commotion? And then she was supposed to go find Loki's scepter and bring it to him at the detention level? What the hell made him think she would listen to him? How did he know that she wouldn't just walk out the door right now and go straight to the Director, informing him of Loki's plan? She could do that. She had no loyalty to Loki.

She paused. Screw it. She couldn't pretend that anymore. She literally had his name written all over her. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. She had come to the conclusion that SHIELD sure as hell wasn't the friend in this situation. It was the enemy. And Loki was their enemy. And while he sure as hell wasn't a friend, there was definitely an understanding between the two twisted minds. That was why she was pacing back and forth in her room, actually following Loki's orders to wait until she heard—

There was an explosion, making the ship rock, even where Emmie stood. The ground beneath her feet trembled with its power, but she kept her balance. It wasn't too close. But it was close enough to know this was what Loki had meant by a commotion.

She stalked silently to the door and rested her hand on the knob. She twisted it, and then pulled. She smirked. The door, as Loki had promised, was unlocked. She was free to go.

Loki's hands tightened into fists when he felt the ground shake with the explosion. The Black Widow had left by now, leaving him alone. He was just grateful that the woman had only thought of Bruce Banner. She hadn't suspected for a second that Emmie Hill was also part of Loki's plan.

_"You're a monster." _

_ "No… you brought the monster." _

_ "So, Banner. That's your play." _

Loki shook his head. He had been stupid to let slip even that much. But not all was lost… so long as Emmie kept to her part of the plan. She'd better.

Emmie held her dagger in her right hand, blade unsheathed and ready to use. The little sheath had been shoved into her back pocket. She slunk down the halls carefully. She really didn't have to bother with being quiet. There were so many alarms going off that she was sure no SHIELD agent would notice if she started singing the national anthem at the top of her lungs. But she still tried to make as little noise as possible. She had not yet encountered anyone… but she knew she would have to soon.

She paused as a voice came out of a speaker on the wall, cutting over the blaring alarms. It was the voice of Agent Maria Hill, saying something about Engine 2 being down, and repairs, and listing off some codes. The girl's face hardened and she narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening on the handle of her dagger. Even the sound of her mother's voice made her want to hurt something… but still she wasn't sure if it was actually her mother she wanted to hurt.

"Hey! You!"

Emmie's eyes flicked from the speaker, now back to blaring the alarms, and met the eyes of a male agent. It was one of the agents that Director Fury had brought with him to apprehend her when she was wreaking havoc in the medical bay. How… convenient. He had just rounded the corner, skidding to a halt when he saw her, eyes wide with shock. He was only about three yards away; an easy distance to cross for her.

"Hi there," she gave him her sweetest smile as he reached for the gun holstered at his waist, but she was faster.

Before he could comprehend what had happened, she had swept his legs out from under him, slammed his hand to the floor with such force that it broke, and had her knife at his throat.

"How nice to see you again," she said, her voice disturbingly angelic. "Tell me, where are they keeping Loki's scepter?" she asked innocently.

He was still stunned by both her attack and the pain coursing through him, stemming from his newly broken hand. "Ah—ah-" he couldn't finish a sentence, or even piece together a full word.

Emmie sighed. She pressed the dagger a little harder against his throat, drawing a fine line of blood across his sensitive skin. "I asked you… _Where?" _she hissed darkly.

He shook his head as if to indicate that he would never tell even if he could. Growling in frustration, she stood, kicked him viciously in the ribs, and then snatched his gun from the holster and silenced the cries of pain he was trying to suppress. With a huff of mere annoyance, she left the body, now armed with both a knife and a gun. She sheathed the dagger as she continued walking the Helicarrier, and focused on trying to find the scepter as she relished the feeling of carrying a gun. Its weight was reassuring, and the smooth metal was cool and soothing. And yet even the weapon in her grasp couldn't soothe the irritation and apprehension growing in the pit of her stomach.

Loki was stupid. How could he have thought that she could just stumble on the scepter? She had nothing to go off of. She didn't have a chance of finding it by accident.

"Emmie," a voice called out.

Emmie snapped her hands up, pointing the handgun at the speaker… who was holding up a bow with an arrow nocked at her. Her eyes flicked over him quickly, taking in his SHIELD uniform and weapon pointing at her. But then her eyes settled on his… electric blue as the Tesseract.

"I take it you've talked to Loki?" he asked curtly, his voice rather flat.

The girl nodded wordlessly. "You're with him?" she asked tersely.

He nodded and gestured to her gun.

Emmie felt irritation spark through her at the indication that she should lower her gun. She was tempted to blow him away right then and there for his gesture at control. But she slowly lowered the gun, and he lowered his bow.

"I need the scepter," she said shortly. "Know where it is?"

"Yes. In the lab a few halls down… it's a mess right now. It got a little rocked from the explosion. It should be empty by now… the scepter's inside somewhere," he answered , barely meeting her eyes before walking past.

"Going to the detention level?" she called after him.

"Yes I am."

Emmie smiled wryly. "Tell Loki I'll see him soon, and I don't expect a big sloppy kiss."

Agent Barton glanced at her over his shoulder, giving her a queer look. He didn't respond as he merely continued on.

Emmie smirked. She had a feeling the man wouldn't pass on her message… but she didn't mind. She turned back to the hall in front of her and moved on, searching for the scepter.

Agent Maria Hill was feeling panicked… even more panicked than everyone else here in the control room. She fended off attackers, just like everyone else. She sent messages to the other agents around the ship, like everyone else. But unlike everyone else, she hadn't forgotten about Emmie.

With the ship so damaged, she could have escaped her room. And something could happen… either to her or because of her. Agent Hill would rather have neither happen. But by now she could hardly concentrate on shooting past her cover behind the table, and by now, the Helicarrier was falling, with two engines down. The computers were down. Outer communications were down. Directional systems were down. There was nothing left to do in the control room except run around like headless chickens and wait for the engines to be fixed.

Hill glanced around. There was no one that would miss her here for a few minutes. The agent made a dash for the exit.

"Hill!" Director Fury's voice stopped her. "We've got enemies crawling the ship! Where the hell are you going?"

Hill whirled on her heel and saw him across the room. "Emmie," she snapped shortly. "The computer systems are down, and her room was locked using a computerized code."

Fury's eye flashed. "You think we might have a Jurassic Park on our hands?"

"Did you just call Emmie a dinosaur?"

"Reminds me of a damn raptor sometimes," he spat. "Go check it out. Let us know if there's trouble." He tapped his ear to indicate her own earpiece.

She nodded determinedly and left the room, gun drawn.

And she was rather perturbed when she made it to the empty room. The only thing Emmie had left was a… bloodstained handkerchief on the bed…? Maria Hill's hand clenched the handkerchief, and she felt a thrill of terror. She didn't know what had happened here, but she knew that there was something.

Emmie, crouched on the floor at the entrance to the lab the man had indicated, peered inside. Indeed, it was a wreck. Computers were on the floor, fallen from their overturned tables. The girl crinkled her nose for a moment, thinking she wasn't particularly interested in sifting through the rubble to find Loki's scepter. Then her eyes landed on a golden object, towards the back of the room, wedged under a twisted piece of steel, blown from the wall.

She slunk over to the golden staff and gingerly tugged on it. She felt her hands shake. There was… power. Power was connected to this staff. She yanked harder on its shaft, but the steel was heavy on top of it. Emmie froze as she heard approaching footsteps outside the lab. Nervously, she tried to wrench the staff again. It didn't budge. With a quiet growl of frustration, she backed away and ducked behind an upset table as the frantic footsteps outside drew even closer. A couple voices began speaking.

"—Banner and Romanoff?"

"Must have fallen down the shaft; we're gonna have to go down a level."

"Let Fury know."

A voice began relaying the information, presumably through a mouthpiece or walkie-talkie device. There was silence for a moment.

"He says he's sending someone down right now." Another pause. "He says Loki's scepter is still in here, and to grab it and bring it to the control room."

Emmie's heart jumped into her throat, and she heard the footsteps draw closer into the room. As they began to pass her table, she jumped into action and sprang up, driving her elbow into the face of the leading agent.

He reeled back with a cry of pain and tripped over the twisted piece of steel the scepter was wedged under. Emmie whipped to face the second agent, and ducked a swinging arm. She came up from her crouch wielding the dagger, and slitting his abdomen from his stomach to his throat, she shoved him backwards. He landed in a bloody heap, choking up blood.

Emmie turned back to the first agent she had attacked. He was trying to struggle to his feet, speaking into his mouthpiece.

"None of that," she hissed, and leveled the gun she had stolen from the earlier agent.

"—attacked in the lab—"

His words were cut off by the sound of gunfire. Three rounds, all in his chest. He fell silent, and he didn't get to finish reporting to the control room. Emmie's eyes flicked over the room and the two dead bodies. She looked down at the dagger in her hand, covered to the hilt in blood, and then at the handgun, now a third empty. Her gaze travelled down to the golden staff again.

A small smirk spread over her lips. When the first agent had tripped over the debris, he had shifted it just enough… the girl nudged the dead legs of the agent away, and she grasped the handle of the scepter. It slid from under the steel with minimal effort. Her grin broadened. This… could be a useful weapon. It had excellent balance, a good height and weight, and a sharp tip. It could be used… in so many ways…

She paused. This would take two hands to carry if she wanted to be able to wield it. She looked at the floor, where she had dropped the gun and knife. She couldn't carry all three knife, gun, and scepter.

Regretfully, she kicked the gun away, wiped the dagger off on the dead agent's shirt, sheathed it, and slipped it into her back pocket. She now held the scepter in both her hands. Now she just had to make it back to the detention level. She strode purposefully out of the room, the scepter swinging casually from her hand. She paused in her leisurely step when there was a sudden roar of a beast. Emmie hesitated. She wasn't sure exactly where it had come from… It sounded a little too close for comfort. She abandoned her little stroll in favor of a dash down the hall, hoping she would be able to find the detention level without any trouble.

She swung around a corner and gasped, ducking. Something was flying towards her. She dropped to the ground, just in time to avoid the object colliding with her. She blinked. Had that been a… war hammer? A giant war hammer, flying through the air? She shook it off and continued down the hall.

Loki was getting impatient. He was already outside the cell, just waiting for Emmie so that they could leave. But she wasn't here yet. And she was taking far too damn long. Someone should be here by now. Even if it wasn't Emmie, at least Agent Barton should be here…

He gritted his teeth, knowing a decision had to be made. He could stay and wait here. He could just make his way to the waiting craft to New York without Emmie. Or he could go looking for the little beast.

Well, he couldn't leave without her. He didn't have his scepter yet. He needed that. As for waiting here, he was getting far too restless and worried… No. He shook that thought out of his head. He was _not _worried for Emmie's well-being, he told himself. That was silly, stupid, and sentimental. He was just impatient. That was all. He did not care if Emmie lived or died, so long as she served her purpose.

With a quiet growl of frustration, he turned and left the area, in search of the little demon girl. Damn her to hell. He was worried for her.

"Screw you, Loki, for getting me into this crap," Emmie cursed under her breath as she turned a corner. She had managed to find a small sign at a fork of three halls, and the one to the left was labelled "Detention Level." She had turned down that hall…. But halfway down, a group of men in suits had appeared at the other end. She had stopped dead, and they had, too.

Silence for a moment. Emmie didn't recognize any of them, but evidently it was not mutual.

"Hill's daughter," one of them muttered. "Must've gotten out… Grab her and bring her to the control room," they muttered to each other.

Emmie's eyes narrowed as the group of five advanced down the hall. She set her feet shoulder-width apart and firmly gripped the scepter in her hands, prepared for the oncoming battle.

"Emmie," one said coaxingly, drawing closer and reaching for his belt.

Her eyes flicked to his belt. He was not reaching for his gun. He was reaching for… a taser, she thought. Her gaze danced between the other four, who appeared to be reaching for their own belts nervously. She smirked. They thought she was the kind of person to wait for someone else to make the first move. Little did they know, she was more of a preemptive strike girl.

Which was why the lead agent's hand snapped back, struck with killer speed by the shaft of the scepter, breaking his wrist easily. Emmie's foot collided with his chest, and he fell back. Someone grabbed her from behind, wrapping their arm around her neck in a hope to cut off her air flow and make her pass out. She struggled for a mere moment before managing to position herself well enough… and she bit down viciously on the agent's arm so hard that she managed to break skin. The hold on her neck was immediately released as she tasted the metallic tang of blood, and she whipped around, slashing the man across the chest with the razor tip of the scepter. Someone seized her wrist and twisted, making her grip on the scepter slacken. She let out a ferocious hiss, barely managing to not drop the scepter. She drove her knee up into her attacker's stomach, and she felt the hold on her wrist release as the agent clutched his abdomen. She finished him with a sharp blow across the temple with the side of the scepter.

The remaining two agents were already backing warily away, raising their hands in surrender before dashing away, probably seeking backup.

Emmie smirked. Her breath was slightly faster than before from the exertions of the fight, but still she smiled. She had to get herself a scepter. It was… enjoyable to fight with.

"Emmie!" a voice called from behind her.

The girl turned and found herself looking at Loki, emerging from an adjoining hallway to her own. He surveyed the three bodies at her feet and the bloody point of the scepter in her hands. "You didn't have to make a mess," he quipped, stepping forward.

Emmie gave him a dark look, unsure of how to react. "…I'd suspect you've done worse," she countered finally.

Loki smirked. "Mmhmm." He was trying desperately to hide the relief he felt at seeing that she had managed to get the scepter and was still unharmed. He would like to cross the distance between them and see her freeze nervously as he drew close. He wanted to see that look of terror and yearning when he was only an inch away. He clenched his jaw and swallowed, cursing her in his mind.

"Want your freaking scepter back or not?" Emmie asked, forcing words past her tightening throat. "Or do you want me to hold onto it? Personally, I kinda like it. I want one."

Loki rolled his eyes. "I'll take that off your hands, Mastermind." He held out his hand, and Emmie reluctantly took a step closer and offered it. Loki glanced between her face and the scepter in her slender hand. He reached forward and laid his hand on top of hers, pulling her until she was only a few inches away from him, the scepter between them in both their hands. He gave Emmie a hard look.

Her heart had sped the moment his hand touched hers, and it seemed to stop when he pulled her closer to him. Her breath caught in her throat as he gave her a searching look, no doubt waiting for a reaction to exploit. She bit her lower lip. "This is starting to get old, Loki… you just pulling me close and then not doing anything," she breathed scornfully.

Loki smirked faintly. "Would you rather I _do _something?" he said, his voice almost a threatening purr. He licked the tip of his thumb and then reached forward, gently rubbing the pad of his thumb over the very corner of Emmie's lips.

She jerked and jumped away, wrenching her hand from Loki's on the scepter. "The hell was that?!" she demanded, eyes wide and voice shrill.

Loki smirked. "You had blood on the corner of your mouth," he sneered, absolutely reveling in her stunned expression.

"Screw you," she stammered bitterly, absentmindedly dragging the back of her hand over the place where Loki had tried to wipe her mouth. She glanced down and saw that there was indeed a little blood that came off on her hand. But she threw Loki a hateful glare nonetheless.

"Something wrong, Emmie?" he taunted. "You look a little… pale? Tense?"

"You realize I still have the dagger you gave me, right?" Emmie spat. "I wouldn't mind carving my name into your forehead this time."

Loki scoffed. "Not a particularly inviting idea. Come. We've got a bit more to do before we leave."

Agent Maria Hill's head was spinning. She had been listening into the conversation between Emmie and Loki from around the corner. She did not see anything that happened, not daring to poke her head beyond the cover of the wall, but just listening to the words exchanged was enough to draw a number of conclusions. One: Emmie had escaped from her room and then proceeded to get Loki's scepter for him. Two: Loki had, at some point, given Emmie a dagger, and the two were working together. And three: there was some kind of undeniable connection between her daughter and the god of mischief. The way they talked… like they were… _friends. And the relief that was barely masked when Loki had first said Emmie's name… _And the fact that Loki had reduced Emmie to mumbling and stammering… The idea gave the mother the chills. And yet another confirmation that this girl was not her Emmie was enough to make the agent shudder.

But the simple fact that Emmie had a connection with… _someone… _was some solace. Just… not much.

**Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: So… here we are again. ;) **

**This chapter was more of just action, and not as much twisted manipulation as previous chapters proved to contain… but I felt I needed to do a bit more of Emmie actually succeeding in taking guys down. **

**It's really quite a delicate balance to keep with her…. I can't have her **_**always **_**have her be epic and kick butt… then she ends up being a Mary-Sue… my worst nightmare. But at the same time, I can't have her **_**never **_**succeed… then she ends up being all bark and no bite; an arrogant airhead who thinks she's all that and can't back it up. So… I try to have her fail and succeed both in moderation. In this one, she managed to be pretty epic. She should totally have her own scepter. She kicks ass with that thing ;) **

**Anyways, I wasn't totally pleased with this chapter… there wasn't as much **_**to **_**it as other chapters… But there wasn't much way to fix that. We were due for some action, anyway. We get into more mental manipulation soon, I think. But I **_**really **_**wanted to have this chapter finished and up by Christmas… so here we are. **

**Alright, now that I'm back to writing, none of y'all had better skimp out on reviewing… **

**So favorite, follow, and review or PM me. **


	15. Quick Note

Quick Note from LoquaciousQuibbler:

NOBODY PANIC JUST BECAUSE THEY SEE A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR!

Okay, don't worry; I'm not discontinuing again… promise…

It has been brought to my attention that a person cannot review on a chapter more than once… which is an issue… because I had a Chapter 14 up (the Discontinuation letter) up, and people commented on that… when I took it down and replaced it with an actual Chapter 14: Scepter, then those who reviewed on the Chapter 14: Discontinuation letter… cannot review on Chapter 14: Scepter.

So… that's an issue, huh? Um… I'm unsure how to fix it… soo… If you were one of the people who reviewed on the Discontinuation Letter, and wish to review Chapter 14: Scepter, then these are my suggestions….

One: You can do as Queen Martha Pond did and PM me your review to let me know your thoughts…. Or…

Two: You can leave a review as a Guest and sign off with your FF username so I know who it is.

Sound okay? Hope so :P

Anyways, I'm going to just leave this up for the rest of the story… that way I can just post my Chapter 15 without worrying about having the same issues… I'm going to call the next chapter 16, even though it's not really. Sorry for the stupid confusing inconveniences… If anyone has any other ideas on how to fix this problem, please let me know.

And thanks to Queen Martha Pond for letting me know about this stupid issue :P

LoquaciousQuibbler


	16. Chapter 16

*You guys! I didn't think I would have this chapter done by now, but I do, and so I shall call this a real, true Christmas present! *waves arms excitedly*

Okay, I wrote this chapter in between singing Christmas songs with my family… which is really weird, cuz it's not a very… "Good" chapter. Good meaning happy, innocent, etc. I hope it's a "good" chapter in terms of enjoyment/feels you get out of reading it. I wish you a Merry Christmas, I wish you a Merry Christmas, I wish you a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!

Symbiosis

Emmie chewed her bottom lip, following Loki closely and glancing at him nervously. She had unsheathed her dagger again, now that the scepter was in Loki's hands.

"So we're leaving now?" she asked slowly.

Loki spared her only a quick glance, finding himself feeling a little strange to simply be walking somewhere with her. "Yes, as soon as…" he trailed off and frowned, glancing over his shoulder down the hall behind them. He slowed to a stop and turned around.

Emmie stopped and looked at him. "What?"

"We're being followed," he said quietly.

Emmie whipped around to stare back down the hall, too.

Agent Hill chewed her bottom lip nervously, unsure of what to do. Emmie and Loki were just down the hall, around the corner. All she had to do was round the corner and they would see her. They had stopped walking, and she had heard Loki mutter that they were being followed. She knew she had been caught. But exactly what she was going to do about it, she wasn't sure. As she saw it, she had three options. She could leave, sneak back down the hall and make her way back to the control room. She couldn't do much here, anyways. Option 2: show herself. They already knew she was there, though whether or not they knew it was her, she couldn't tell. Her third option was to simply wait here. Either they would just continue on, and she would continue to follow them, or they would come find her… and she didn't know what would happen then. She wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

She stepped out from around the corner to face Loki and Emmie.

Emmie had been glancing questioningly between the empty hall and Loki's intent expression. "Loki, I don't hear anything."

"Do you doubt me?" he asked quietly.

Emmie hesitated. "Sometimes."

"Don't. There's someone—"

Both immediately fell silent as a figure stepped out into their view. The Mastermind Murderess and the god of mischief both readied to strike; Loki raised his scepter, and Emmie drew her hand back in preparation to throw her knife. But neither made a move when Emmie's mother raised her hands in the air in some form of surrender.

Loki found his eyes snapping immediately to Emmie for her reaction… almost hoping that she would give him some kind of direction. Honestly, he didn't know what to do. If it had been anyone but this woman, there wouldn't be a question about it. If it had been anyone else, neither he or Emmie would have hesitated to strike the agent down. But it wasn't anyone else. It was Emmie's mother… who Loki knew Emmie was still torn about. And so he hoped desperately that she would have some idea as of what to do.

Emmie froze utterly, staring. Again. Why did this crap happen when she saw her mother? Why did everything just... falter? All she could do was stare.

"Emmie," a voice whispered.

She blinked, and her eyes flicked to Loki. It hadn't been her mother that had spoken: it had been him. He was giving her a hard, questioning look, and his eyes flicked to the woman briefly.

"Emmie, tell me what's happening," her mother suddenly said urgently.

Emmie couldn't speak. A hand grabbed her shoulder a little roughly.

"She's coming with me, woman," Loki said harshly.

The woman didn't say anything for a moment. "Willingly." It wasn't a question; a mere statement. Her eyes flicked between her daughter and the god. "What the hell have you done to my daughter?" she snapped, her demeanor switching from passive and questioning to angrily accusing in a second.

"I haven't done anything," Loki snarled.

"Emmie, you can't go with him!" Hill sounded frantic now. "Em—Emmie, we've found a way…" her eyes were now filling with tears. "We've found a way… to… to… to bring you back to normal," she choked.

Emmie stiffened. "You… _what?!" _she whispered incredulously. Her voice had slipped out from between her lips without bidding.

Her mother nodded vigorously. "We- we found—the cause, and—" she was very close to tears now, but there was a flicker of hope. "Emmie, you can't—"

Loki's hand on the girl's shoulder tightened. "We're leaving," he snarled.

"Loki," Emmie breathed, not taking her eyes off her mother's desperate face.

"What did she tell you just two hours ago?" he hissed angrily. "She said she was accepting that you aren't the person you once were… yet now here she is saying she wants you to stay so that she can make you that person again."

Emmie's eyes flicked to his.

"Emmie, don't listen to him," Hill whispered, and now a few tears escaped her eyes as she tried to blink them away. "You're still my daughter… aren't you? Can't you be? We can… we can fix this…"

Emmie opened her mouth, but no words came. Suddenly she didn't know what she wanted. She thought she had no feelings for this woman… but seeing her desperation and tears made her heart plummet. She already knew she was not the person she used to be. She didn't want to be "fixed". She wasn't broken. But seeing the woman who had once been her mother… Loki was right. Just hours ago, she had admitted to having no hope for her. Yet here she was now, begging her to stay, and for her to believe she still had hope. Emmie's face hardened at the same moment her heart did. "No… we can't fix this… even if we can, I don't want to," she said very quietly. She felt Loki's hand squeeze her shoulder almost-comfortingly. It might have been a caring gesture, If only it hadn't been for the faint sting of the scabs that spelled out Loki's name when he clenched her shoulder. And she was quite sure he hadn't forgotten about those scabs. He was just reminding her of them with the squeeze of her shoulder.

She threw him a quick look before returning to her mother.

Agent Hill looked crestfallen. "Emmie, you can't… leave…"

"I can… and I am." The girl whipped around and then stalked away down the hall.

Hill just stared after her lost daughter for a long moment before her gaze flicked to Loki, who was still standing there. He hadn't followed Emmie just yet.

Loki gave the agent a long, hard look, trying to decide what to do with her. Emmie had just rejected her… perhaps it would be alright if he killed her. But she looked so lost… it might have been merciful to kill her there. He couldn't do that. He turned and walked away. And the woman didn't follow.

The mother stared for another long moment. She knew somewhere in the back of her mind that she should do something more to stop them. To stop Emmie and Loki… but she couldn't find the energy to go after them. She was rooted to the spot.

Only did she move when she heard a voice in her ear telling her to return to the control room, and she was needed there.

Numbly, she made her way there and followed orders, not saying a word about what had transpired. She felt her heart sink and shatter somewhere at the pit of her stomach when she got the news Phil Coulson had been killed. She knew it had been either Loki or Emmie. And she knew that if she had reported the events that had taken place when she went to go check on Emmie, this might not have happened. But she couldn't… she just couldn't.

And as Emmie boarded the waiting craft to bring Loki, a number of other agents, and herself to New York, she felt like perhaps she had made a horrible mistake in rejecting her mother. But she couldn't be sure. And she needed to ask Loki about it.

Still in the carrier transporting them to New York, the two sat with a number of other agents in a passenger area. After a long moment of contemplation, she stood up, threw a meaningful glance at Loki, and she walked out of the room and to another, empty one. She knew he would follow her. That was one thing she was sure of. So she entered the room, crossed to the window, and simply looked out, waiting. Just as she knew he would, he came.

"You wanted to talk," he said shortly. She smiled faintly. Evidently, he knew her, too.

"I think now's a good time for you to give me that information I wanted," she said slowly.

Loki looked at her carefully. She had been terribly quiet ever since the encounter with Agent Maria Hill. Not that that was a huge shock or anything… but it was intensely off-putting when you had grown used to her taunting. "You think so, do you?" he asked rhetorically.

She glanced over her shoulder at him darkly, and meaningfully touched the sheathed dagger tucked into her back pocket.

Loki shook his head, knowing this was an empty threat, but not wanting to simply give in. "What makes you think you deserve the information you want right now?"

"I'm damn well _here_, aren't I?" she snapped. "Haven't I done my freaking part, or what?"

Loki was silent for a long moment. Then, "The Tesseract altered the levels of activity in your brain. The energy of it supercharged certain parts and overloaded others. The parts most affected were those that control impulsive actions, violent tendencies, and coordination. You were made to have heightened accuracy in your movements and calculations. You were made to have violent thoughts. And because of those parts of your brain that control impulses being overactive, it does little to filter out any action."

Silence. "And what about the other stuff? Why can't I remember what I was like before?" she asked in a hushed voice, hating to hear the information she had been dying to hear. She had suspected she might not like the answers she was given… but to hear it put in so simple and neat an explanation… So technical. No emotion.

"The parts of your brain that control memory were supposedly overloaded from the Tesseract's energy, and they shut themselves down to prevent permanent damage. When the energy stopped actually entering your body, only some parts of your memory functions were restored to activity, and other parts remained dormant. The parts of your brain containing all your memories before the Tesseract remained dormant."

Emmie swallowed. "And the SHIELD agents figured that out after… a whole year?"

"Frankly, I doubt it was the SHIELD agents. It was probably Stark and Banner who put the pieces together."

"And my mother…" she said softly.

Loki fell silent for a moment, getting a feeling he knew what she was getting at. "What about her?"

"What was she talking about?" Emmie asked in a whisper.

Loki watched her from the middle of the room, his arms folded over his chest as he looked at Emmie, staring out the window. "Evidently they think they could reverse the effects of the Tesseract," he said simply, avoiding the question.

Emmie laced her fingers together and lifted them to her face, inspecting them. "Can they?"

"In theory, they could return your brain to regular levels of activity… they could, theoretically, return you to normal," Loki said quietly.

Emmie didn't say anything for a long minute, staring at her pale hands. "In theory," she repeated with a sigh. "Which means they really can't?"

Loki contemplated. "It can never be truly reversed… never truly erased. You can't remove yourself from the horror of your life the past year… you will always have the memories. Even if your memory were to return from your life before the Tesseract, you wouldn't forget what you became after it."

Emmie shivered at the thought… She knew what she had been like before. And she knew what she was like now. The past and present self were not the same person. Those two people colliding in the same mind and body was a terrifying idea. "So… I'd be the old me… and the me now… both at the same time."

"You still are, right now," Loki said curtly.

Emmie turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. "Not exactly… I don't have the same feelings and thoughts as I would have say, two years ago."

"You're still the same person. You're still the person that once loved your mother… and smiled, and laughed, and loved. You've just forgotten all of it."

"And if I were to remember… then what?"

"If you were to remember, and the levels of activity in your brain were to return to normal… I would suspect that you would abhor the person you are now. I suspect you would think of all this as nothing more than a terrible nightmare… and you'd try to go back to your normal life. But you would shrink away every time you saw a knife or needle… because I would think you would remember the rush of holding such things… and using them against people. The memories of it would remain. And you'd be scared of it… yet horrifyingly fascinated by the person you once were. You would still be changed. The feelings you have now are real. You would remember that. You've been changed permanently, Emmie… even if they were able to 'fix' you, you'd always be twisted just out of shape, marred by the time you've spent as the Mastermind Murderess."

Emmie was silent, thinking. "This is crazy," she muttered. "Do they realize this? That I'd still be who I am now? That I can't be the little kid I used to be?"

Loki shrugged noncommittally.

"And what about you?" she asked sharply.

"What?"

"What's your plan for me now? I've gotten this far. We're on our way to New York. What am I supposed to do when we get there?"

Loki considered. "Originally, that was the point at which I would kill you, and tell SHIELD you were still alive, and force them to surrender if they wanted you back. And then I'd hand over your mangled body once they complied," Loki said flatly. "But…" He gave her a hard look.

Emmie glanced away, knowing what he meant. Originally…. But not anymore. Now he didn't like the idea of killing her. "Yeah," she mumbled, looking back to the window.

Loki moved to stand just behind her. She stiffened, sensing his presence only inches away. But she did not turn to face him.

"Emmie."

"Loki."

"You… drive me insane."

"Mmhmm."

"I still haven't decided if that's a good or bad thing."

Emmie's lips curled up very slightly at the corners at the declaration. Then she stiffened as his hand touched her left shoulder. She tensed, feeling the scabs of the letters Loki had carved into her skin burning. Loki merely traced his fingers over where he knew the letters were under her shirt.

"I hate you," she whispered weakly, knowing just as well as Loki that the statement was a lie.

"Good. You should hate me. I hate you, too," Loki whispered his line, sending a shiver down her spine. But then he came a little closer, so he whispered right into her ear. "You should hate me… but I know you don't."

She turned her head very slightly to meet his eyes. Only an inch was between them. "I think the same could be said for you," she observed, trying not to let her inner feelings show… she tried not to tremble at his closeness, to lean back so her body pressed to his chest, to not close the inch of distance between them. "…You should hate me. But I know you don't."

Loki smirked, but there was no mischief or dark humor behind it. No feeling… perhaps only a touch of sadness or bitterness. "Correct," he said simply.

Emmie glanced away from him now, no longer meeting his eyes.

"Emmie."

_"What?" _

"We're alike, you and I."

Silence. Then, "I've noticed."

"I know you have… What do you think of that?"

"You know damn well," she growled.

Silence.

"Emmie, look at me," he ordered her, almost feeling something like desperation.

Emmie complied, her green eyes flicking up to meet his. She was close to tears, much to Loki's surprise. "What do you want from me?" she whispered, sounding choked. She finally turned her body so she faced him fully. "Hmm? What the _hell _do you want from me?"

Loki considered, watching a pair of tears slide down her pale cheeks, in sharp contrast to the rage in her eyes, the conflicted pain and uncertainty and the pleading. He knew… she just wanted to _understand… _herself, her situation, him, her feelings for him… and Loki could understand that. He sighed, feeling his own inner conflict, an irritation for his empathy with her. His face remaining expressionless, he reached up and touched her cheek. His jaw tightened, and he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. He… was unsure. He couldn't decide if he liked this or not. Emmie appeared just as conflicted, disliking the inclination to be vulnerable, yet appreciating the opportunity to let down the guard always held up, always fending people off.

Emmie gave up, closing her eyes. A few more tears escaped and rolled down her cheeks. She let out a single sob and closed the distance between her and Loki, pressing her forehead to his shoulder without any hesitation. She sobbed into his shoulder once more before just relapsing into silent tears.

At first, Loki had no reaction. He wasn't exactly shocked… he had known Emmie's walls were crumbling fast. But he was slightly taken aback. She hadn't wrapped her arms around his waist or neck, which he was grateful for, but she still was crying against him, seeking solace. Not comfort… it was in neither of their natures to seek or give comfort. But empathy… empathy for the twisted… they could accept that. He gave in, too, and slung an arm around her waist, pulling her a bit closer as he backed up, collapsing against the cold metal wall as he held onto Emmie like she was his anchor.

The scene would have been the strangest sight to anyone else… the god of mischief, slumped against the wall, the girl pressed against him, sobbing into his chest. Loki closed his eyes and bowed his head, his chin resting against the top of Emmie's head. He didn't cry. He didn't cry on the outside anymore. But if he did, he would have then.

Loki's thoughts were of his own situation… of the rejection of Odin, the constant second place he held, always behind Thor. His turning his back on the people who were once his family… Of finding new purpose. Purpose that led to pain, for not only himself, but for others as well. He didn't mind causing pain… until he met Emmie, who just… understood.

Emmie just cried, letting bitter tears flow as she recalled the words of her mother… first saying that she knew she was not truly her daughter anymore, and then begging her once again to stay and become her daughter once again. Not accepting her for who she was, but wanting her to be who she once had been. Somehow the feeling of Loki's chest rising and falling calmly and his arm around her waist helped in a way she couldn't understand. Well, she understood, much to her chagrin. But she hated it.

Both cursed themselves and each other for this moment of weakness. But it was mutual… mutual weakness, and mutual silent understanding that this was never to be spoken of. Never to be used as blackmail against each other. Never to be a metaphoric dagger.

When Emmie finally finished crying, neither made a move to pull away. They remained where they were for a long moment, the only sound their ragged breath in the air.

"Loki?" she asked hoarsely.

"What?" he asked. His voice betrayed none of the emotion he felt inside.

"What are we? We aren't enemies… we're not… friends… not…" she didn't bother finishing, knowing he could fill in the blank.

"Emmie… I don't know," he sighed, not even bothering to try to think of something clever. He leaned his head back and let it rest on the wall. He didn't resist as Emmie pulled away from him slightly. He let his arm fall from around her waist and back to his side. He didn't look down to meet her eyes until he felt her hand rest on his shoulder. Then he glanced down.

Emmie was giving him a hard look, as if making a decision. She searched Loki's face for a moment, contemplating his cool countenance. No emotion… simply… drained, it seemed. He swallowed, and Emmie felt a twinge of painful happiness. He was still keeping emotions hidden. She rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his. Suddenly his arm was around her waist again, crushing her against him like she was his lifeline, pressing his lips against hers with something like agonizing desperation, like he hated himself for his need for her… and they both felt that enmity for their mutual need for each other.

Her hands tangled in his hair, as if she was trying to bring him even closer to her… but that wasn't really possible. Loki moaned involuntarily and lifted her off her feet, arms wrapped around her waist so tightly she could hardly breathe. Emmie let out a sound, something between a strangled whimper and a groan of pleasure as she moved her lips against his hungrily. She gasped shakily as he bit down on her bottom lip. She was oh-so grateful he was holding her up, otherwise she felt like she would have collapsed.

Loki was lost… in himself, in Emmie, not knowing or caring. He reveled in her trembling hands tugging gently on his hair, shivered at her quiet whimper, and relished her gasp as he bit her lip. She had gone limp, except for her lips, still against his, begging him for more. One of his hands slipped from her waist and moved upward, splaying across the small of her back before tangling in her hair. He felt her knees gripping his hips, and he let out a quiet growl, eliciting another stifled moan from her. He attempted to not let himself stagger, but he was starting to feel shaky. With a sharp inhalation, he parted his lips from her, panting for breath.

Emmie was gasping even worse than him, her eyes still closed and her chest heaving. Her fists were still in his hair, and her knees were still on his waist, still held up by him. Somehow they had turned, and Emmie's back was to the wall rather than Loki's. She had somehow become pinned to the wall by Loki, his arm still on her waist. Slowly, she released her grip on him, and she pressed her palms to her own forehead. "Let… me… go," she breathed.

Loki's arm slipped from around her waist, and her feet hit the floor. She slumped against the wall, still not opening her eyes.

Loki stared at the breathless young woman before him. Hating himself, hating her, hating what they had just done… and wanting to do it again and again. He rested his hands on either side of her head, keeping her where she was leaning against the wall, trapped between himself and the wall. His breath was still rough and ragged, and his heart was still pounding in his chest. "Emmie," he whispered in a growl.

She just let out a shaky breath and breathed, "Loki."

The exquisite pain and lust in her voice sent a thrill of sensation through his body that made him want to hear her whimper of pleasure again, but he held himself back, loathing what she did to him.

Emmie wanted to throw herself at Loki and make him kiss her senseless again, wanting him to hold her so close it hurt, wanting him to break her utterly. But she held herself back, hardly daring to open her eyes slowly and meet his intense gaze, full of… something. Something bitter yet longing. Exactly what she felt. Not a word was said as they just looked at each other, something between a glare and a plead.

Finally, Loki broke their trance by letting out a sigh and allowing his gaze to fall to the floor. He backed away, deciding he had had enough weakness, and enough giving in for now. He turned, ready to leave Emmie alone yet again.

"You know…" Emmie's voice stopped him coolly. "That still doesn't entirely answer my question of what we are." Her voice was hard, cold and with an edge; a lot like the dagger they had carved each other's shoulder with. As if they hadn't just shared what could be the most intimate moment of her life just moments ago.

Loki smirked slightly at her ability to slam her guard back up so quickly. Yet just moments ago, her lips were fused with his, needing him just as much as he needed her. But if she wanted to play it off and pretend that they hadn't been reduced to sentimentality a minute ago, then Loki was perfectly willing to allow that. He turned back slightly to see her. She was no longer slumped against the wall. She stood up straight, still next to the wall, but no longer defeated by her emotions. Her pokerface was back in place, and if it wasn't for her mussed hair, flushed cheeks and still slightly-quivering hands, he might be able to believe the entire encounter was a figment of his imagination. "What exactly do you expect me to say, Emmie? We're not, in Midgardian terms, 'boyfriend and girlfriend,'" he said those last three words with a hint of disdain.

Emmie smirked slightly, too. "I'm well-aware of that. Then, Loki, what do you call this?"

Loki considered a moment, contemplating her aloof air. He smiled humorlessly, recalling a conversation they had had what seemed like such a long time ago. "Call it symbiosis," he said drily. He grinned when her only response was a scoff, and then he turned and walked out.

**Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: *hiding behind couch, peering over the edge nervously* Did it suck? Did I go too far? This chapter has me almost as nervous as the Dagger chapters… this is the first *ahem* scene like this I have ever written, and it took me forever… so let me know if it was too much, not enough, terrible, awesome… you know. Because I'm seriously shaking slightly as I'm typing this. **

**Alright, so I cut out a lot of bits from the movie here… I did not have anything planned to happen involving Emmie during Coulson's death, so I just kinda skipped over that. Basically she would have been kind of watching from the sidelines unseen… and I didn't feel that was particularly important to include. So I just skipped that whole part. **

**But… I seriously do not know how this story is going to end. I seriously need help… if ANYONE has ANY ideas to share, or some kind of request to make for this story… I would love to hear from you. **

**I hope I haven't broken your heartstrings this Christmas day… and if I have, then it gives me a guilty pleasure to do so. ;) **

**Merry Christmas. Please favorite, follow, and review. **


End file.
